


Kinky Red Boots

by alicat54c



Series: Rogue Step [1]
Category: The Flash (Comics), The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Invasion, Alternate Universe, F/M, Fem!Barry - Freeform, Flash Rogues, Fluff, Gen, Len has been waiting since the first chapter for this, Lewis Snart's A+ Parenting, Lisa rules the Rogues with a Golden Fist, Michael Snart, Rule 63, Universe Alteration, Unplanned Pregnancy, baby's make things way more complicated, coldflash - Freeform, justice league - Freeform, len is not chill at all, suicide squad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-05-12 19:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 27,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5678233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicat54c/pseuds/alicat54c
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It took Len a laughable amount of time to realize he had been thrown into a different dimension. In his defense, there really was only one noticeable difference. </p><p>His jaw clicked shut, a sensual sneer curling his momentarily dumbfounded face. “Looking good Flash.”</p><p>...</p><p>Wow, this summary is really misleading for how the story is going. I’ve got Captain Boomerang with PTSD, Len going toe to toe with his crippling childhood abuse psychological issues while unconsciously being a feminist, and Piper and Trickster being the most platonic bros ever. Also Lisa takes over the Rogues at some point, because she's bad-ass, and can handle being a star crossed lover better than her brother. There's also aliens, because what does DC love more than Batman?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

...

It took Len a laughable amount of time to realize he had been thrown into a different dimension.

In his defense, he was not suddenly a hero to the Flash’s villainy, nor had the lost city of Atlantis suddenly risen from the depths. Really, the only noticeable difference came when his long overdue heist on the CC Diamond Exchange took place, and a certain Scarlet Speedster ran in to stop him.

Captain Cold actually stopped in the middle of shooting out some banter, mouth hanging open for half a second, while Mick continued to melt his way through the vault door, and Lisa broke open the display cases.

His jaw clicked shut, a sensual sneer curling his momentarily dumbfounded face. “Looking good Flash.”

The Flash flushed darker than that tight leather suit, arms half curving over the lightening insignia in a practiced movement of modesty, before lowering into fists.

“Robbing a bank? I think you’re losing your edge, Cold,” Flash snarked, cheeks still flaming.

“I’m taking it as an opportunity to sharpen my skills.”

“I always though diamonds were too hard headed to be worth shaping into anything worthwhile.”

Len hefted a fist sized rock, clear as water. “But they are a girl’s best friend.”

“Which I’m sure you know nothing about.”

“The kind of girl I would give this to, I think, would be something other than a friend.”

“Oh my god, will you two stop flirting,” Lisa groaned, throwing a diamond at the back of her brother’s head. Mick just rolled his eyes at the soap opera unfolding behind him, in favor of carting off a bag of jewels.

Len sighed. “Well, the job calls.” He tossed the jewel at the speedster. While the Flash fumbled to catch it, Cold froze the kinky red boots to the pavement, and dashed to the getaway car.

Later, Lisa smacked her brother round the ears. “If you’re just going to stand around gawking at the Flash every time we pull a heist, you might as well ask her out on a date, because next time, I’m leaving you behind.”

Len raised an eyebrow, smirk playing across his lips, gaze calculating. “Maybe. Has the Flash always had such attractive-” He made a groping motion across his chest.

His sister punched him.  
...


	2. Chapter 2

...  
Len’s last day on earth was uneventful, all things considered.

He had an iced coffee for breakfast, managed to escape Lisa’s fervent attempts to once again call him after his breakout from Iron Heights, and was just heading down to the docks to handle some Captain Cold impersonator. 

He supposed that was when things went wrong. 

The thief remembered a flash of familiar white glare, and his pupils dilating in self defense. Through the blind scuffle and sliding around on the patches of ice, Len might have been tossed through a waiver in the air. Though, that could have been a side effect of still seeing spots. He wasn’t sure.

In any case, he was here now. Had been for a few weeks. His doppleganger was no where to be found, and upon further careful questioning of Lisa and Mick, had been out of touch since his release from prison. Just like Len, it seemed.

With no way of returning home, he settled back into the eerily similar life he found himself in. What did it matter? Lisa was still his gold craving sister, Mick still a pyro, and Central still his city.

The important points were the same, why worry about the rest?

Some discreet digging revealed a few slight barely noticeable differences between his home and this realm.

The 1918 flu pandemic resurfaced some time in the fifties, drastically reducing the world’s population in rural areas, as people began concentrating in cities to access doctors. That resulted in the death penalty being banned, and a huge leap forward in biotechnology and medical research.

Not relevant, but interesting.

Even more interesting was...

Len leaned back in his chair, away from the laptop on his desk. “Hey Lisa, want to plan a heist in a town with a flying alien?”

His sister rolled her eyes. “We’re not going to Metropolis Len. Besides, don’t you think the Flash will get jealous if she finds you cheating on her with another hero?”

“Wouldn’t want to upset our scarlet speedster.” He agreed, icy demeanor disguising exactly how light headed he felt.

Aliens. Honest to god aliens from the outer rim of other galaxies. 

A childhood full of staticky black and white science mystery theater films taught him to beware the inevitable consequences of otherworldly visitors. Oh, another minor difference, alien invasion genre was apparently not a thing in this dimension.

His fingers steepled in front of his mouth, tapping together as he thought. Perhaps he should instate some emergency policies with the Rogues. You know, just in case.  
…

Len sighed, and pulled away from his laptop for the first time in several hours. World history had never been his forte, but he found himself tumbling through a crash course none the less. 

Leaning back, the thief stretched his arms over the back of his head and perused the hideout around him. 

The space was sparse, consisting of a repurposed warehouse someone had half converted into luxury condos before running out of money. Some discreet contracting saw a fully functioning kitchen and a suite of comfortably livable rooms, as well as a large space for testing new equipment and parking getaway cars.

Mick’s room at the end of the hall had some smoke coming out from under the door, but that wasn’t too worrisome as that end of the building was entirely concrete.

On the couch of the living room, near where Len worked at the table, Lisa lounged and touched up her eyeshadow.

Len was beginning to worry that his sister my clinically be a narcissist, as opposed to her usual level of self importance, as the amount of time she spent staring into mirrors was bordering on obsessive.

“I think you need a new hobby, other than putting on lipstick.” He said idly, as he watched her make faces into her compact mirror from the kitchen counter.

Lisa sighed dramatically, and snapped her compact shut. “And I think you need to get out and get laid.”

He sighed, and fixed her with an unamused look.

“I’m serious.” She insisted. “You get like this every time you have a crush on someone who makes your life interesting. First it was that hacker with the dragon tattoo, then it was that cute guy who kept solving all your cases in London- the blue eyed violin player? His sidekick was so jealous- oh, John sent us another Christmas card, by the way. And now it’s the Flash. Just let me know when you two start doing the horizontal dash, I’ll get a new apartment.”

“I don’t have a crush on the Flash.”

“Oh really?” Her expression was disbelieving. 

“Yes. Our relationship is,” he paused to collect his thoughts, “more complicated.”

“Right.” The woman stood and stretched languorously. “Well, while you’re both sorting out your facebook status like a couple of teenagers, I’m going out.”

He watched his sister stalk out of the apartment, the door shutting with a decisively accusatory click.

Sighing, he gathered up his computer and went to his office. Settling into the leather backed chair, he opened up a search engine. 

However, instead of pulling up the schematics of a new museum exhibit like he planned, the thief’s fingers instead scrolled through the CCPD’s pilfered personnel files.

An few clicks, and there she was.

Forbearance Allen, so apparently named after her painfully traditional maternal great grandmother. No wonder the kid preferred to be called Barry. A name like that was even worse than Leonard.

Growling in the back of his throat, he snapped the laptop shut.

Lisa was right, he needed to get out of here.

Grabbing his thin black jacket, the thief left the apartment.  
…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> Just some house cleaning. Plot and romance kind of start next chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

…

Saints and Sinners was just as constant in the multiverse as Big Belly Burger, it seemed. 

Breathing in the smell of smoke and whiskey contentedly, Len stirred a few more fries through the ketchup on his plate and snapped them into his mouth.

A gaggle of young men playing pool in the corner laughed raucously, but otherwise the bar was empty. That is, until an all too familiar lanky ginger was pushed into the room, with a tall dark kid about her age. 

Len stared.

What was she doing here? Possible reasons for her presence cascaded through his mind like lightning, but he was unable to reach a conclusion, before the young woman’s gaze fell upon him.

Barry’s eyes narrowed, then widened, and she flinched away, trying to distract herself with ordering at the bar.

Len blinked. She…didn’t know he recognized her. A smirk twitched its way across his face. Well. This could be fun.

Leaving his plate, the thief sidled over to her end of the counter. The bartender rolled her eyes at his antics, but didn’t look up from stacking glasses.

“Can I buy you a drink, miss?” Len purred, stoping a polite distance from his quarry.

Barry barely glanced his way, before refocusing her efforts to attract the bartender. “No thank you.”

“All right.” The thief conceded. He wrapped his knuckles on the wood. The bartender looked up, one unamused brow raised. “Whiskey, ice cold.”

She rolled her eyes again, before pouring his usual, and sliding the glass across the counter. She turned away before Barry could grab her attention.

The speedster huffed a growl, reminiscent of an angry kitten. Len tried not to smile.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.” Blue eyes never left her face. “I definitely would have noticed.”

She flushed, still resolved to not look in his general vicinity. “I’m meeting up with some work friends of a friend. He’s all about dive bars for some reason; picks a new one every week.”

“As the proprietor of this fine establishment, I feel as if I should take offense.”

“What? Oh, geez, sorry, what I meant was-“

Her fluster faded away under Len’s unbidden chuckles. The flush deepened to scarlet.

“You sure you don’t want a drink?” He waved a hand to indicate calling over the bartender.

She shook her head, and fell back with another huff. “No thanks. Alcohol doesn’t, uh, really do anything for me. I just wanted a soda.”

“Lightweight?”

She chuckled uncomfortably. “Kind of the opposite? It takes a lot to get me even buzzed.”

“Really?” Len’s back straightened, and he tilted his head. “That must be quite useful.”

“Not as much as you would think.” Green eyes flickered to his, before darting away.

“I take it your friends don’t know about your disinclination for establishments such as these?”

Barry shrugged. “Well, I tried to hint that I wasn’t interested, but, well, I guess I should have been more direct.”

“I myself am a pretty straight forward guy.” He traced his finger along his glass’s rim. “When I see something I want, I take it.”

The young woman’s face flared. A squeak, an actual squeak, issued from her throat, and she toppled off her stool. “I, uh, um- friends are, uh, calling, yeah-“

Len repressed a smirk as she darted away towards the gaggle playing pool.

“You didn’t have to scare her like that.” The bartender said, getting him another drink. “She’s just a baby.”

“Trust me, she can handle herself.” Len said.

“Whatever you say, Cold. I’ll leave the upstairs keys under the mat then, shall I?”

He shot her a look. “I don’t expect things to get that heated.”

The bartender quirked an eyebrow. “Uh hu. Right.”

In the corner, Barry had detached herself from the larger group, and seemed to be engaged in a fast paced conversation on her phone.

The thief strained his ears over the jukebox’s low crooning. 

“I’m not going to seduce him for information, Cisco! This isn’t some Bond movie! … Yes, Caitlin, please talk some sense into….So maybe that would give us the upper hand at his next heist, but- …” She ran a hand agitatedly through her short hair. “Well, maybe-“

Len stopped listening at that point.

So, she wanted to play that game. Ok. He hid his a smirk under another sip of whiskey, wondering if she even knew all the rules.

Barry returned to the bar more straight backed, a determined glint in her eye. Len assumed her companions had given her some kind of pep talk. Cute.

She slid back into her stool. “Hey, I’m back.”

The thief smiled. “I was thinking you were going to leave with mister tall dark and handsome over there.” The girl looked confused, until Len nodded in the direction of the retreating man.

She flushed. “Oh, Irvy? He’s my, uh, foster brother. He’s leaving to meet with his girlfriend Patty.”

“And you decided to stay?”

Barry leaned across the countertop, trying to manufacture the casual confidence she thought she needed. He voice very nearly didn’t squeak. “Well, with a handsome man offering to buy me a drink, how could I say no?”

Len nearly inhaled his alcohol, just managing to cover his laugh with a cough. He put on his smarmiest leer. He could play over the top too.

“Well then, my dear, let’s toast the night!”  
…

The evening grew fuzzy as the tumblers on the counter stacker higher. 

Len recalled leaning in close to the young woman’s ear, whispering little truths he knew he would regret in other circumstances.

Her expression grew warm and empathetic, as she scooted closer into his personal space.

The thief hated that look, but when he made to pull away, he found her hands intertwined with his. He remembered their eyes meeting, then someone leaned in, and they were kissing. 

He must have mentioned the small apartment above the bar, because when he woke the next morning, nursing his worst hangover in recent memory, it was to find himself tangled alone in the sheets beside the impression of another body.

Len waited to see whether his night time companion would return, before heaving himself to the kitchen for a carton of orange juice.  
…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> Just to be clear, Len was not sober, Barry was, and they both had terrible motivations for sleeping together. He didn’t pressure her into anything, and neither did she. This was a joint decision. (Though technically Len was the one taken advantage of…not that Barry or he will see it that way.) Just, so everyone is on the same page, consent is sexy. Don’t forget. I’m not condoning what went on here. It just makes for great future drama.
> 
> On a lighter note, Justice League: Gods and Monsters has the most lovely platonic friendship I’ve ever seen between a man and woman in the form of Superman and Wonder Woman, and the best setup to a threesome where two people were on board and one really misinterprets the situation with Batman and his college buddies.
> 
> Also, show of hands, who else is trapped inside by the snow?


	4. Chapter 4

…

He didn’t expect anything to come from that night, other than some well earned snark and jibes at his next heist. 

To commemorate the occasion, he planned to steal some ridiculously overpriced orchid, which would be in Central during some rich botanical benefit. The flower was such a familiar shade of red, he couldn’t help but wait out the three months for it to come to him. 

He wondered if he threw flowers at his favorite hero this time, it would compliment or clash with her suit. The diamonds had complimented her lightning bolt…

Unfortunately, the Flash was well known for throwing wrenches into his plans.

Len leered at the willowy woman walking through the door of Saints and Sinners.

“Barry. Didn’t expect you after you ran off from our last encounter.”

Her step faltered. “How did you know my-?”

“What can I say, I’m really fast on the uptake.” 

She stilled. “You knew.”

His answering smirk provided all the confirmation she needed. “I think we should be asking ourselves why you tried to seduce me. I get the whole secret identity thing, but I thought you would at least extend your favorite villain the curtesy of not flirting under false pretenses.”

Fury vibrated through her, causing lightning to crackle across her skin. “I thought there was some good in you, you ass, but I guess I was wrong.”

“You never were very good at winning our games.”

“Is that all this is to you? A game?” Her fists spasmodically clenched at her sides, as if wishing to close around his throat. “Well then, I guess the joke’s on you, because I’m pregnant!”

Her announcement echoed through Len’s suddenly cavernous head.

“I thought you were using birth control.”

Her rage deflated just enough to allow a tendril of nervousness through. “I was. It just, well, my doctor said my body burnt through it too fast.”

The thief ran a hand over his face. This whole dance had always, always been about power. Len hadn’t planned on, well. Definitely not this, at least.

“So.” His voice was cool and light. “Are you going to take care of it?”

Her eyes sparked, jaw setting in a defiant angle he usually saw under a mask. “I’m keeping it, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Somewhere Lewis Snart was probably laughing at him, the bastard.

There was one thing that Len refused to become, and that was his father. Yet this tale of a young girl taken under the wing of a older man for nefarious purposes, left with two desperate options, and refusing the one which would kill an innocent life played much, much too close to home for his comfort.

He ran a hand over his head.

No. He wouldn’t do that to her, couldn’t. Even if she was his arch nemesis, or whatever corny new name Team Flash tossed about this week.

Len met her gaze evenly. “Then I suppose you’ll be wanting my assistance with-“ He waived his hand vaguely at her person.

She puffed herself up like an angry cat, eyes suspiciously bright. “Um, I’m sorry. When did I ever indicate you had a say in this? I didn’t tell you so you would propose to me, Cold, I told you so that you know exactly why I never want to see your face again! What century do you think we’re living in?”

The slap across the face was expected, as was her turning on her heel and stomping out through the door.

The thief probed the inside of his mouth with a tongue, tasting blood.

Never wanted to see his face again. Fine. Ok. 

He could work with that.  
…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …  
> A/N:   
> Baby’s don’t fix things, they make them more complicated. It’s a trope in fanfiction that has always bothered me, so…I’m writing an experiment to fix it.
> 
> 3mo
> 
> Also, hey, wanna know what's awesome? Undertale by Toby Fox. Sans is my favorite, because Tricksters are my favorite, and (**sobbing***) he embodies ALL THE BEST THINGS.
> 
> I know this is short, but I did update just yesterday, er, today...late last night? early this morning? Within the last 48 hrs.


	5. Chapter 5

…

Len watched the news reel with the same intensity a hawk might spare a sparrow’s nest. On the screen, a villain of the week held up the local bank. His knuckles turned white as a thunder of red lightning charged onto the scene, narrowly missing the criminal’s waiting wave of sand, because of course he was a meta.

The reporter nattered on, and the thief had to repress a snarl as the camera refrained from recording the escalating action, in favor of the silly newscaster’s face.

The footage focused too much in the foreground, but the thief could see Flash dash in a circle and throw what appeared to be a handful of lightning (wait, what?) at her attacker. The meta screamed, and the heroine panted heavily, hands imperceptibly creeping to clasp in front of her abdomen.

Len tasted blood.

The door to his office rattled, and the man physically forced himself to unclench his teeth, while he quickly closed the browser on his laptop.

Golden Glider waltzed into the cramped space, hands defiantly propped on her hips while she scowled. “Lenny, I’m worried. We haven’t pulled a heist in weeks! That’s not like you.”

The thief spun around in his desk chair, to fix his sister with a glare. “Are you questioning my authority?”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “No, I’m just bored, and Mick is threatening to start lighting fires.”

The man’s fingers twitched against the desk. “Tell him to keep his cool. I’m moving up our plans for handling the Santini family, and we don’t need any heat on our backs while we plan.”

His sister grumbled, and turned to leave the office.

Len reopened the newsfeed on his browser, in time to see the city’s local heroine help the CCPD cuff the now glass meta in the back of a van, presumably to Iron Heights. He made a note to call in a favor to have the guy smashed upon arrival.  
…

With conscious effort, he managed two weeks without scanning the news for stories of the Flash’s latest adventures in villainy.

Then Lisa turned on the TV while taking a break from pouring over blueprints of the Santini’s major weapon catch store house. 

A man with rocket shoes and a glaring costume danced across the screen, as a reporter rattled off something about the newest super villain of Central robbing three planes mid flight.

Cold was impressed despite himself. Though… his head canted to the side. Jesse James looked…much younger than Len expected. He made a note to look up whether this Trickster had existed in the past, like in his own universe, or whether this was the costume’s first appearance.

He turned to Lisa. “Have we finished our recruitment posters?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He hummed, eyes ticking back to the TV, where the Trickster’s rain of bombs was narrowly avoided by a streak of red lightning. His fingers clenched spasmodically against the counter, unnoticed.

“If these guys want to trash our city, they’ve got to play by our rules. Otherwise it’s no fun for anyone.”  
…

Finding those who don’t wish to be found is easy, so long as one knows where to look. Len had the unfair advantage of having once been in the Trickster’s hideout in a parallel universe, but as a thief held no qualms about using said knowledge judiciously.

The blonde’s eyes flicked from one face to the other, performer’s grin never faltering. “So, let me get this straight; you want to recruit me.”

Mick growled, and Lisa frowned. “We’re not the girl scouts.” Her eyes fluttered. “Not sweet enough.”

Trickster’s eyebrow raised, giving him a spectacularly manic look. “Could have fooled me, bella donna.”

“What she means,” Cold cut in, arms crossed imperiously over his chest. “Is that we’re giving you an offer you can’t refuse.”

The acrobat tapped his heels on the warehouse floor, hands discreetly slipping into his pockets for a yoyo. “Oh, Godfather, very auspicious. I suppose I’ll find a horse’s head in my bed if I say no?”

“We’re not like any gang you’ve come across.” Cold said. His mouth quirked in glacial mirth. “Look at it this way. The old game players in the city are trying to stop the new rulebook. Last week, they iced Nimbus, and word on the street is they’re removing any cape or mask on the street they can find. They don’t want another Gotham. Now, my Rogues are much more in favor of progression. We’re letting the old dons know they’re not welcome in the sandbox anymore.”

Trickster’s face hardened. “I don’t deal with the mob, Cold. It’s guys like them who killed the Graysons, and my family still flies. They’re arseholes, but I’m not putting a target on their backs.”

“Your little stunt today already put a target on you, kid. It will only take a week, tops, for the Darbynions to find out who you are, and from there it’s a quick manhunt to see you gone.” Cold cocked his head. “But, if you’re on my team, then my team plays for you. Anyone comes after you, they’ve got all of us to contend with. And the dons know better than to try that.”

Trickster gulped, eyes flickering from the armed pyro to the glittering golden glider. “And let me guess, all it will cost me is a cut of my heists, and me being your little jack in the box on call.”

“We’re not so dictatorial as that. You just have to obey by my rules to stay on the playground.” 

“And those are?”

“No killing.” Came the immediate reply. “We don’t need the heat from the cops and capes.”

“Easy enough.” Trickster’s hand unclenched minutely from his toy. “That it?”

“No drugs.” Ice blue eyes bore into his. “And no going after the Flash alone. The Rogues have a mutual respect with the scarlet speedster, and we don’t want to deal with whoever moves in to take her place.”

Jesse waited for the thief to continue. “…And that’s it?”

“There’s also the matter of you carrying your weight during heists, but those details are easy to hammer out later.”

The acrobat’s eyes ticket from one straight face to another. His plastic smile gained a fevered tinge of joy. “Well, gents, you drive a hard bargain, but looks like I’m in.” He held out a hand, which Cold magnanimously ignored. 

“Right.” Trickster clapped his palms together. “Do we have matching jackets? No? Ok, I’ll make some.”  
…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, class got cancelled because of the snow again...ok then. Guys that means there's a new chapter for y'all.
> 
> …  
> A/N:  
> Comics Trickster is better than what the CW did. 4mo


	6. Chapter 6

…

Seven down: That which one leaves behind.

Legacy

Eleven across: Three syllable word for the male’s relationship to a family.

Paternal.

Thirteen down: To await an arrival, nine letters.

Expecting.

Len threw down the crossword in disgust. This was the reason he had become a master criminal. Useless simple Reader’s Digest puzzle.

Huffing a sigh, the thief ran a hand over his lips, fingers ticking. He half got up to go to the kitchenette, but turned at the last minute to pick up his laptop.

He scrolled through the latest newsfeed on historic exhibits coming to Central, before closing the browser in favor of some new blue prints of renovations to the museum.

A few minutes of flipping and he turned away, malcontent.

Len prodded at toe at the fallen crossword puzzle, and ran a hand over his mouth again.

How much was it to raise a kid anyway? A quick internet search left him with furrowed brows, and tapping fingers. 

He knew Barry didn’t make nearly that much at her job with the CCPD. Coupling her lost pay during maternity leave, and the projected amount she must need to spend on food due to her enhanced metabolism left…

Carefully unclenching his fist, he ran a finger over the half moon impressions on his palm, checking for blood. Satisfied, he pulled on his favorite pair of black leather gloves, and left the hideout.  
…

The small establishment was a front for a larger corporate bank, present in the city only for some obscure tax evasion scam or other. It didn’t have an ATM, but the reams of printable routing codes were invaluable in redirecting a few million or so to an offshore subsidiary Len had set up. He usually abhorred such boring schemes, but he didn’t have the time to plan a more elaborate heist. This was business, not pleasure.

However, when the Rogues walked into the bank, tricks and costumes discreetly hidden under civilian clothing, it was to find every patron already arrested.

A thin man in a green hood froze, one hand hovering over the teller’s keyboard, while the other held a recorder to his lips. Strange metal gauntlets wound up his arms, glowing faintly. A printer ran furiously in the background. He straightened up, reaching to play some new kind of melody, before thinking better of it when upwards of three guns pointed directly at him.

“Well,” said Trickster, breaking the tension like a blunt ax through a tree. “This is awkward.”

The green hooded man hesitated a step back. The mass of hypnotized bank workers swayed slightly, as his attention on the music slipped.

“How long does this last?” Lisa said, prodding the shoulder of a man in a suit. He flopped over onto the floor.

“Let’s ask.” Len’s hard eyes spoke volumes.

The green man slowly removed the instrument from his lips and raised his hands over his head. “Ten minutes after I stop playing.”

Len quirked a smile. “Cool. That should give us enough time to finish up.”

“I was here first,” the green hooded man blurted. 

Len looked down his nose at him. “Well then…”

“Piper,” the kid answered his questioning tone.

“Right, Piper. It seems as if we’re hijacking your heist.”

His hands clenched, ready to fight. The strange glowing gloves whined tinnily. “But I need-“

Cold raised his gun lazily, cryo engine charging.

“Can’t we all just get along?” James’s voice cut through the standoff, and he shouldered his way past the other Rogues. “Look, let me just talk to him, all right?” He made a shoo-ing motion towards the office computers. “You lot just go do whatever it is that you do.”

Piper looked wrong-footed, but didn’t protest as the Trickster swept him towards a quiet corner of the bank. He spoke with authority and gravity, with lost of posturing and arm waving. The green clad new guy looked too bemused to notice his loot being packed away by the rest of the Rogues.

By the time the bank employees began to stir, Trickster had the slightly rumpled flutist tucked cheerily under his arm. 

The blonde grinned cheekily up at Len. “Can I keep him? I promise to feed and walk him every day!”

Piper scowled, and wrestled himself from the acrobat’s side with as much indignity as he could muster. Straightening his hood, he folded his arms across his chest, and stared with fading bravo up at Cold. 

“I don’t believe I need to hand in a resume?”

Len smirked.  
…

The next day saw a handful of market speculators slightly poorer, and four Rogues moderately intoxicated with success and several bars worth of liquor as they welcomed their newest member.

Len, never one to impinge upon his self control with alcohol, left the moaning bodies scattered around the hideout, as he wired a fifth of yesterday’s score into a local account. From there, he drove around several local banks in Central, until the whole sum was present as several stacks of cash. He packed the bills into one of Lisa’s discarded shoe boxes.

At precisely one fifty-one PM, he jimmied the lock of a specific apartment, when he knew the occupant to be at work, and left the box in an easily identifiable location.

Money left safely on her pillow, Len felt the matter settled. His guilt would no longer peck at him; he had done his part to make sure she wasn’t destitute. Case closed. He could wash his hands of the whole matter and go back to playing capes and masks. He didn’t have an obligation to the Flash, or whatever spawn she produced.

He found the shoebox on his desk in his hideout the next day, a pink sticky note on top. 

‘I won’t take your dirty money’

Len didn’t bother counting the bills; he knew they would all be there. Breathing evenly, the thief steepled his fingers in front of his mouth, and counted sixty one heartbeats, before his pulse calmed to its regular tick.

He was used to the Flash throwing wrenches in his plan. He should have expected her to do this. 

Next time, his angle would have to be too novel for her to easily deflect.  
…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, I'll just post what I have. Then there will be a long stretch of no fic. You've been warned.
> 
> A/N: I like Len. He tries his best. 5mo
> 
> Also, the banks that handle actual big amounts of money are proxies. I feel like Len just felt that hacking computers was too easy.


	7. Chapter 7

…

Barry had moved back into the house of her foster father.

The bedroom across from hers, once home to an apparently messy young man, had been stripped, and was in the midst of being painted a light green. 

He would have picked blue.

Len paced the corners of the forming nursery, ears perked in case either of the house’s occupants returned from work early. 

In the attic he knew there was a well loved crib, which would look perfect in the corner. He had purchased it himself from an antique shop, and coated it with enough dust to be unsuspicious. The deed said this house had been in the West family for a few generations. Finding seemingly unknown heirlooms in nooks and corners would not be uncommon.

His feet slowed as he approached the window. Six steps from the edge of where the crib would go. The way the light filtered through the tree outside, would perfectly cast shadows to play along the wall. 

He had some diamonds held in his personal collection, and gold wiring was easy enough to lay in place after all his tinkering with solder on the cold gun. If he hung a mobile just here, then rainbows would play across the ceiling for the baby’s entertainment.

His hand dropped from the wall, where he had been tracing calculations for light fixtures and space utilization.

No. He didn’t think he could get away with passing several millions worth of gold and jewels off as an old family trinket. Besides, the diamonds were shaped like snowflakes. Flash wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole.

Shaking away superfluous thoughts, the thief turned back to the window. From his pocket he pulled a screw driver and a much sturdier lock than that which clung to the thick frame now. 

With a few deft movements, he had the old mechanism removed, and the new one screwed in. He spared a few moments to mar his precise work by worrying the screws until they were slightly stripped. He ran his fingers over the screw tops, confident that his fix would easily reflect the other impatient handyman jobs throughout the house.

Levering a leg over the now open window, the thief leapt into the nearby tree and shimmied down the trunk. He wouldn’t be able to enter this way again, but sacrifices must be made for peace of mind.

Fingers ticking along his thigh, Len strolled down the sidewalk, wondering how high caliber of a back door lock he could sneak into the house before the Flash grew suspicious.  
…

Len strolled through the hospital parking lot, hands tucked in his coat pockets, and glasses obscuring most of his face from the sun’s glare. His feet scuffed the pavement, as he discreetly turned away from the building’s doors.

A young woman, accompanied by two tall dark men, practically floated out of the ward. Her face glowed, and she gabbled excitedly with the younger of her companions. No trace of concern or worry brushed even lightly across her features.

The thief let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and rubbed his knuckles over his sternum, face blank. His fingers ticked against the zipper of his pocket, before resolutely pulling themselves away.

The hospital windows winked at him in the afternoon sunlight.

Clenching his jaw, Len shoved his hand into his coat and pulled out a cell phone.

It picked up after the third ring.

“I’m calling in that favor you owe me.”

“Well, hello to you too!” The woman on the other end on the line sassed. She sighed. “What’s the job?” 

“General Hospital, I need to access patient records.”

“Which ward?”

His fingers tapped a stitch against his thigh. “Maternity.” 

There was a pause, then- “Really?”

“There a problem?”

“No.” Came the too quick answer. “Can I get a name?”

The tapping increased in fervor, before curling under his palm like apprehensive talons. “Forbearance Allen.”

Another pause. “You sure know how to pick ‘em Cold.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nice name, is all.” The meta said. “Where should I drop the file?”

“I’ll come to you.”

The meta growled deep in her throat. “Just don’t burst into the middle of my clinicals again, ok? I would like to have my medical license without being questioned for my connections to the criminal underworld.”

“Just keep your cool, Pica-Boo.”

The woman growled exasperatedly, and hung up.   
…

“I guessed this was what you wanted.” She held out a thin manilla envelope.

Len’s fingers did not shake as he took it from her. The yellow paper scraped insistently against his leather gloves as he eased the glossy prints out of it.

“I told them my boss was going through a bad divorce, and his wife wouldn’t let him near the kid.” Shawna’s eyes never left his icy face. “I wasn’t entirely wrong, was I.”

Len traced a finger over the ultrasound image. “No.” He said at last.

The meta hummed. “It’s a girl. I asked before I left.”

A girl. Like Lisa. Would the baby resemble her paternal aunt? Or favor her mother instead? Please, something inside his heart begged, let her not have to look like me.

“So we’re even, right?”

Len hummed noncommittally, tucking the papers under his arm. “For now.”

The meta huffed, and vanished in a puff of black smoke.  
…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …  
> A/N:  
> Len, you are such a creeper. This author does not condone such behavior, because stalking is bad. Len is just…such a creeper, seriously. And really bad at listening to boundaries. Or, er, really good at finding loopholes in said boundaries.
> 
> Len has more issues than the national geographic. Seriously. 6mo


	8. Chapter 8

…

‘Uncontrolled hyperthyroidism (overactive thyroid) can be dangerous to the mother and cause health problems such as heart failure and poor weight gain in the fetus….’

“What are you reading?”

Len discreetly closed the book, and tucked it into a desk drawer. “Nothing of immediate importance.”

His sister pouted, and leaned across the back of his chair. “You’ve been acting so weird for a~ges Lenny! If you’re planning a big heist, you should at least let the rest of us kno~w! We’re a te~am! You have to sha~re when you’re apart of a team!”

The thief breathed deeply through his nose, in a long practiced mediation of patience. “Well, I might sitting on a job for just the right moment.”

Her eyes glimmered. “Oh, do tell! It’s been so monotonous lately! I had to talk Mick down from lighting James on fire, again.”

Len’s lips twitched upwards. “Well…”  
…

While researching replacement parts for the cold gun, Len came across a military base. They once had several contracts with Star Labs, thus had a vault of prototypes which could fetch a pretty penny on the black market.

(The fact that the guy in charge, one General Eiling, also kept his kinetic based weaponry against the Flash in there was purely coincidence.)

Though the base suffered some superficial damage several months ago, all mysteriously labeled ‘unsanctioned fire accident’, it was still operating just outside of Central’s borders. 

The Rogues all piled in the back of the van. Len in the front seat, Mick in the back, Piper and James sharing the middle, with Lisa driving. The thieves kept their favored weapons in their laps to keep the trunk empty.

Cold made sure every one buckled up, and they were off.

And hour into the drive, homicide was imminent. 

“Are we there ye~t?” Trickster sang, cheerily heedless of Heatwave adjusting the settings on the gun aimed at his head, and Lisa’s twitching eyebrow. Piper resolutely listened to his mp3 player, hands clamped over his ears.

“Yes.” Len, growled. “And if you insist on being this disruptive on the way back, we’re leaving you at the base. We clear?”

“As ice!” The acrobat cheered, launching himself out of the slowing vehicle. 

The rest of the car gave a sigh of relief, before following.

“Here’s the plan.” Cold barked, reiterating the plan he had painstakingly put together over the last few days. “Mick and Lisa, you two watch the car, and be prepared for any suppressing fire we might need on the way out of the base. Piper and Trickster, you’re with me.”

James saluted smartly. “Right-o Boss!”

Heatwave took his friend aside. “You’re sure you wanna go alone with these two bozos?”

“I need Piper for the computers, and he works best with James at his back. Besides, I wouldn’t trust either of them to shoot /at/ me when I’ve got guards on my tail.”

Mick considered this, before nodding gruffly and heading back to the car.

Cold mimed for silence, before motioning the two youngest Rogues to follow him to the barbed wire gates just visible through the tree line.   
…

The group entered the building through one of the tank garages (thirteen seconds between camera sweeps), before making their way downwards to the labs, where a vault of machinery stood. Of course, the best way to the vault was actually through the adjoining containment units, and a deceptively thin wall.

“Geeze, this guy’s messed up!” Trickster grimaced, reading the cards on the empty cells. 

At his side, Piper looked greener than usual. “That should be illegal!”

“It is.” Len said, walking with purpose to the end of the room. His stomach rebelled as he recalled the long, long list of ‘guests’ who had checked in and never checked out of this facility, and who’s unwilling participation led to the creation of most of the anti-meta weaponry they were about to take. “Piper, do you have that virus ready?”

The musician flinched back from the cells, hand pressed firmly over his mouth as he nodded. “I just need a terminal, and the system here will be wiped, as well as a virus to chase down any mention of what was in their files on any other connected database.”

“Cool.” A gun was only a valuable product if it was in limited supply after all. With a flick of his wrist, Len froze the far wall, and shattered it with a kick. 

Trickster immobilized the terrified lab assistant with a can of noxious silly string, and Cold crossed to the locked steel door.

“Piper, you have thirty seconds once I’ve cracked the vault.”

“Right.” the engineer replied absently, already scrolling through code on one of the abandoned computers. “I need sixty.”

An alarm started blaring in the distance, and Len swore, before blasting the vault with his gun. “You have twenty five.”

James immediately leapt into the vault, stuffing everything he could get his hands on into one of the industrial grade duffel bags the group had brought. Cold Iced iced the door and picked up one of the full bags, stepping purposefully back to the hole in the wall.

“Done!” Piper called, dashing to pick up a significantly lighter bag, before joining his employer.

“Me too!” Trickster sang, tumbling out of the vault with the third bag on his back. “Let’s boogie!”

Cold rolled his eyes as the party stepped back into the holding cells, and made a wall of ice to block the way back to the lab.

Everything was going great, until it wasn’t.

They made it just out of the holding units, when a woman in a tight body suit and magenta hair, with a contingent of guards approached them from an adjoining corridor. 

“I got this bro!” Trickster sang, tossing his bag at Len and leaping into the air.

The woman snarled, eyes glowing menacingly as the steel floorboards warped and writhed under her feet.

Cold pushed Hartley away from the fray and into the dirt filled yard. The kid broke into a flat dash for the shattered hole in the fence, ears perked for his friend’s welfare, despite his unwavering gaze.

Trickster’s mad cackle cut short with a cry of pain.

Piper made to turn back, but Len, straining under the weight of the two bags, shouted at him to keep moving.

They made it to the van with only a superficial hail of gunfire at their backs. Mick discouraged the shooters with a wall of fire, and the two Rogues threw their ill gotten gains into the trunk.

“Drive.” Cold barked.

“What? We have to go back for him!” Piper practically frothed at the mouth.

Cold grabbed the kid’s hood before he could stagger out of the van, and tugged them both into the back seats. Mick slid seamlessly to the passenger side, gun still ready as he watched the horizon. 

“Cool it.”

The musician rounded on his boss. “Let me go!”

“You’re losing your cool, kid.” He looked at his sister. “Drive.”

Rubber screamed, Piper swore, and Len nursed a gunshot ricochet wound on his leg.

The musician’s struggles finally ceased when the base disappeared from sight. He curled in on himself, not caring how his body jostled unrestrained on the seat. “So much for the Rogues sticking together!”

Len felt cold.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …  
> A/N:
> 
> Len was reading a book with an article I got from womenshealth,gov. Hyperthyroidism is basically a very fast metabolism. Barry most likely has that, as well as the cannon hypoglycemia. Her having a kid would be medically very touch and go, because pregnancy is a horrifying biological mess. You know women can get spots like raccoon masks? And you can get diabetes, because babies are jerks who mess with blood sugar chemistry. Making tiny imperfect clones of oneself is freaking hard!
> 
> Also, yes, I’m throwing in a lot of Cadmus with meta experimentation at Eiling, but, meh, he pretty much indicated he had no problem with stuff like that in CW cannon.


	9. Chapter 9

…

The Rogues were silent when they got back to their base.

Until Piper started screaming. “How could you leave him like that!”

“They were on our tail and we were out gunned, what did you expect us to do?” Lisa snarked back.

“I didn’t sign up to be cannon fodder for some super criminal!” The musician hissed. “If I wanted that, I would have gone to Gotham!”

“No one’s stopping you, if you keep talking like this, kid.” Mick chimed in, jaw set.

Len steepled his fingers in front of his mouth, eyes closed. The nick on his leg was bandaged, but he ignored it with long practice.

“Shut up, all of you.”

Immediately the remaining Rogue’s quieted, glares turning from each other to their leader.

“First we need to determine if they took James, or if they simply killed him outright. Then we need to find out where.” Blue eyes snapped open. “Piper, if your so concerned, make yourself useful and hack their computers again.” His gaze ticked left. “Lisa, I need you on stakeout duty. Iron Heights is the closest maximum security prison to the base, and if James is being tried on a federal level for his crime, they’ll most likely send him there.” 

Piper growled, but spun dramatically on his heel towards his lair. 

Len jerked his head after him, and Mick rolled his eyes, but followed to make sure the kid didn’t do something stupid.

Taking a slow breath, Len allowed his body to ease back onto the couch. The muscles along his leg twitched, and a barely noticeable wince stabbed his brows.

Lisa settled at his side, hands pressed on her knees, golden eyes careful. “You never cared much for new guys before, Lenny. What changed?”

The thief side eyed a glare at his sister. “Till Trickster leaves us cold, he’s ours. He didn’t give up on us, so we won’t on him.” He waved his hand around flippantly. 

A smile glided across his sister’s lips. “Once a Rogue, always a Rogue, hu?”

“Don’t say that. It’s not a catchy as you think it is.”  
…

They did end up sending Trickster to the Heights, though with too much haste for the Rogues to knock over the car and get him. Len was in the middle of planing how to break out of the maximum isolation security ward’s new security (and why was James even there?), when Piper approached him.

The musician regarded his boss with tight lipped distain, which while significantly diminished, indicated that he would be sending coal to Cold for every foreseeable holiday.

“He’s being transferred from Iron Heights. Tomorrow.”

Len’s brow twitched. He hated rush jobs. “Usually there should be a line a paperwork leading up to a transfer. He’s been there over a week, and this is the first I’ve heard of this. You getting sloppy?”

Hartley glared. “There was no indication of this. The order came in from this morning, from someone who is apparently pretty high up on the food chain. It doesn’t say where; it doesn’t say why; only that it’s happening.”

Cold breathed through his nose, and closed his eyes. “We can get the transport while they’re leaving. We’ll need a lookout, though.”

“I can utilize the city’s traffic cameras. That should give us an indication of where they are.”

“Good.” The thief nodded sharply. “I’ll call up Mick and tell Lisa to get the bikes ready.”

The crease at the corners of the musician’s eye, present since his friend’s capture, eased minutely with the comfort of a plan. Pressing his lips together, he swept back to his lair.  
…

The best kinds of plans were the easy ones, or so Len had discovered over the course of his illustrious career. The plan was eerily close to his heist of the Contac Diamond: waylay the truck on the road between point A and B, grab the goods and flee.

Of course, Trickster was no diamond by any stretch of the imagination, despite his sentimental worth.

The only real hitch was that, despite Hartley’s fevered hacking, point B where they were taking the Rogue was a suspiciously shrouded mystery.

Len ended up delegating Mick, Lisa and himself to motorcycles placed equilaterally around the prison. Hartley was back at the base scrolling through traffic cameras and reports, streaming information about where and when the truck would most likely show up to the other Rogues via ear pieces.

When the call came in, Lisa was the closest. Mick and Len immediately drove off to join her. However, the thief noticed something strange upon arriving.

“Piper, how many companion cars should someone of Trickster’s caliber have during a prison transfer?”

“Just the black one in front of the truck, can’t you see it?”

Cold scowled. “Yes, but I also see six other cars which have been tailing us for the past eight blocks.”

“What?” He heard a scrabbling of typing. “Shit.”

The thief hummed in agreement, fingers ticking on the accelerator. “Piper.” He said slowly. “Does your hypnotism work over loudspeakers?”

“Not unless I’ve made them myself. Normal speakers compress the sound bytes too much for my music to work.”

“So if I throw, say, my ear piece into the car, you could control the driver?”

He could hear the smirk across the line. “Oh yes. I could do that.”

“Cool.”  
…

This is what will be written on the incident report.

The passenger side window frosted over, and before the driver could do more than ease off on the gas, a head sized projectile smashed through the glass, blasting an in-comprehensive jumble of musical scales.

The driver will then claim to have lost consciousness, despite the tailing cars reporting him calmly deviating from the predetermined course. Those cars were then summarily lit on fire, with their wheels crystalized to a standstill.

Except one.

But the Rogues didn’t find that out until later.  
…

Cold iced the steel doors.

“Care to do the honors?” He said to Mick, but before the pyro could respond, Lisa had already smashed the door with her heel.

“What? You two were taking too long.”

The men rolled their eyes, and the door crumbled open.

“I completely agree Miss Glider!” Croaked a voice from within.

“You all right in there James?” Len said, ducking into the tiny space.

Trickster’s smile was skeletal in his drawn face. “Some spook thought she could strong arm me into working for the feds. Thanks for bustin me out; she didn’t look like the type to take no for an answer.”

“Rogues look out for their own.” Cold said in reply.

The acrobat’s smile softened. He lifted his chained hands. “Spare a key gov?”

Len sighed, and froze the chain far enough from his companion’s wrists to not expose him to the cold. It shattered easily.

“There’s a blue van headed towards you!” Called Piper’s voice from the discarded helmet. “It was trailing too bar back for me to notice it was apart of your entourage.”

Cold sighed long sufferingly, and hustled the acrobat from the vehicle towards Lisa’s bike. “Get Trickster out of here. I’ll cover us.”

His sister clamped a hand on his arm, and met his eyes with a deadly promise, before leaping on her motorcycle with the limp Trickster, and roaring away.

Thirty three seconds later, and a truck pulled up next to the thief. He froze the wheels before it got too close, and immediately three goons in suits (also promptly frozen) leapt out, followed by a dark skinned woman in a suit (blocked by her icicles).

“My name is Amanda Waller.” The woman said, much too at ease for someone with a gun to their head.

A smirk quirked the corners of Len’s mouth. “I don’t think I need an introduction.” She made to reach into her jacket, and he charged the cryo engine in his gun. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

The corners of Waller’s mouth pinched down, but she drew her hand away. “You think you can threaten me, Cold?”

“You threatened one of my Rogues, and I’m a firm believer in fair play.”

“I was offering Mister Jesse an opportunity to help his country.”

“Sorry not interested. He’s already apart of a rather exclusive club.”

Her expression spoke volumes more than the Art of War. “One day, you’re gonna slip up. And then, your ass is mine.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“I don’t count, Captain, I guarantee.”

Cold didn’t remove his hand from his gun until he was seven blocks away from Waller and her surviving goons. He repressed a shudder. That woman was disconcerting on a cellular level.  
…

Later, Len considered expanding the Rogue’s living room space, as it was much too crowded to allow anyone to think, let alone plan a heist.

Then, of course, there was-

“I’m si~ck!” Trickster moaned. “That means you have to do what I sa~y!”

Len took a settling breath, and stood, crossing to the couch with the pillow in his hand. Pausing above his injured comrade, he met the kids eyes long enough for his intentions to become explicitly clear.

Trickster tried to roll out of the way, but Len had already slammed the pillow across his face. He held it for a playful second, before returning to his armchair.

The kid pulled the pillow off his face, gasped, and shot a glare at his boss, before casting about for nonexistent mercy. “Did you guys see that? He tried to smother me!”

“Pity he didn’t finish.” Hartley said, turning a page in his book.

Mick and Lisa grunted in agreement from the kitchen table where they were polishing their guns.

Dramatic tears pricked the acrobat’s eyes. “None of you love me~e!!!!! You should have just left me in my cell! At least they appreciated me!”

“Keep going on like that and we will next time!”

Len sighed, and blocked out the erupting chaos by picking up his laptop once more.

Things were finally back to normal.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …  
> A/N:
> 
> Hey, suicide squad. Sup. 
> 
> 6.5mo


	10. Chapter 10

Once word of Jame’s escape got out in the underworld, less than conventional criminals came flocking surripiticously to Len’s door. 

The thief didn’t mind, per say. Alchemist was weird, but was willing to coordinate heists to avoid embarrassing situations where both both groups accidentally try to rob the same bank. He could also be bought off with literature, which Cold could appreciate.

Shark King and…that girder guy were just…no. They never came to Len’s door, either to knock or knock it down, so the Rogues mostly ignored them. Around that time Flash had also become suspiciously absent, her duties delegated to that Firestorm guy during her leave.

Len wasn’t as upset as Lisa expected when this replacement became apparent. She didn’t comment, and Len wondered how long her discretion would last. 

Then, of course, there were the ones who knocked. Metaphorically.

The first broke his way into the warehouse hideout while the Rogues were otherwise occupied. Lisa was off as a spa, Piper got dragged along on another of Trickster’s madcap adventures, and Len was supporting a less than sober Mick back from the bar. He hadn’t had a drink himself since Barry’s revelation, so resigned himself to being the designated driver.

The hideout was dark. The doors were locked. And on the living room couch, a guy in a dark jacket slumped with his elbows propped on his knees. The room smelled of copper and iron.

Len had his gun glowing in his hands in an instant. However, the figure didn’t move, even when Mick clicked on the lights.

His neck was oozing sluggishly, and his fingernails were bloody. Ponderously, the stranger rolled a small metal device between his digits, expression alternating between murderous and stunned. “They put a bomb in the back’a me head, the bastards.”

Len held out a hand to stop Mick drawing his gun.

The stranger continued to stare at blood drying on his hands.

“While that’s fascinating,” the thief drawled, trying to squash the crawl worming its way across his skin. “I’m afraid that doesn’t explain why you’ve invaded our abode.”

“Heard on the vine a bloke can join up and have his back watched with you lot.” A baring of teeth too deprecating to be humor sliced across his face. “ ‘Work with Leonard Snart, and he’ll be the only one to kill you.’ Least, that’s what they say.”

“Is that so.” Cold said.

The man’s eyes ticked upwards. “Thing is, I got a lot of folk after me, less I get them first.”

“Sounds like you might be bringing in more trouble than you’re worth, Mr…?”

The slash ripped anew. “Boomerang’s what they replaced my name with.”

Len’s lips twitched. “I hear when you try to throw away trouble, it has a bad habit of coming back to find you. My crew doesn’t need the heat, Boomer.”

“You’re already in the pot, what with all your running about with the capes and cowls. They like to keep their eye on us particulars. It’s how they keep their little squad full.” His bloody hand twitched.

The grip Len had on his gun tightened imperceptibly. “You seem rather well informed for a foot soldier.” 

“I was a captain, before calling quits. It came with a mite more paperwork, and names to call on for details. Course, they didn’t know I would ever come calling, but I’m still well informed of what I need to keep out’a fire.”

“Hm.” Cold eased the grip on his gun, and rested it back against his shoulder. “I still don’t appreciate you bleeding all over my couch, so you better clean up if you plan to sleep on it.”

Boomer’s stoic expression looked just short of disbelieving. “So I’m in then?”

“On a trial period. Think of it like an internship.”

Mick, lovely Mick with the ability to burn through a buzz when the cards were down, strode to the kitchen and threw a wet towel at the back of the guy’s head. He whipped around and caught it before it connected.

“Med kit’s in the bathroom,” the pyro grunted. “Don’t use up all the pain killers.” His eyes flicked to his partner’s, and Len blinked in acknowledgement, before Mick sidled off to bed.

Looked like Cold was playing babysitter again tonight.  
…

Boomer took a while to…adjust to living with the other Rogues.

Because, yes, while Len and Lisa had several disposable apartments across the city, Mick technically had the deed to an old firehouse in his back pocket, and Trickster and Piper shared a dump near the acrobat’s old storage crate, they all ended up sleeping more nights in the warehouse hideout than anywhere else.

The assassin wore a tourniquet around his neck to cover the slowly healing scar. Red spots could often be seen leaking through the material, until he switched to a darker color. Len mentioned having Boo look it over, but the man only glared, and swept back to his room, blood caked under his finger nails.

Speaking of his room, no one was quite sure exactly where it was. The traps took up an entire hallway in the unfinished end of the warehouse, and no one except Trickster was curious enough to try their hand at passing them. 

James was still sulking over his singed hair. 

Piper swore he saw Boomer spirit away an ikea box with a picture of a futon on the side, but no one believed him until they found the thoroughly stabbed remains in a dumpster a few days later.

Mick kicked out one of the legs of his worktable, and loudly proclaimed the stainless steel construct too much effort to fix, and left it obviously in the middle of the living room with a wrench and hammer on top. It vanished in the night, and Boomer stopped carrying all of his knives on his person everywhere.

When the same thing happened to the pyro’s bed, Len just threw up his hands, and told the man to go shopping, and stop breaking things in his house.

A few weeks into their acquisition of a vanishing housemate, the assassin reappeared just when the Rogues were discussing their newest heist. How he knew, when no one had told him, the rest of the group didn’t want to contemplate. 

“Boomerang, glad you could make it.“

“Digger,” the assassin interjected. “Digger Harkness. That’s m’name.” He nodded as if to reaffirm the fragile truth in his mind.

Len took a breath to absorb this new dimension, before continuing. “Ok, then Digger and Lisa can take the third floor together, so Piper has enough time to plant his speakers…”

From then on, he could be seen perched on a stool positioned exactly in the corner of the kitchen, sharpening whatever happened to be on hand. The bread knives never sliced so smoothly before.

He would nod to Mick, refrain from meeting Lisa’s eye, ignore Trickster, and once was caught tapping his foot to a sonata Piper left playing on the radio.

Boomer was almost at the point of initiating conversation, when he caught a trespasser.

Len was…otherwise occupied somewhere else, so the assassin brought the trussed up man to the next in command.

“Found him jimmying a window. Rules are no killing.” His blank eyes queried whether he was allowed to break said rule in this instance.

Lisa snapped her compact shut with a sigh. “Mark, you know we would be happy to give you a key if you asked.”

The thoroughly tied body wriggled and grunted, prompting a breeze to blow angrily through her office.

“None of that.” Boomer growled, kicking the meta in the ribs.

Lisa waved her hand. “Digger, he’s ok. You can let him go.”

With a flick of the assassin’s wrist, the prisoner was free, and scowling. Thunder rumbled dangerously in the distance.

“Mark, this is Digger Harkness, our new intern. Digger, this is Mark Mardon, our mascot.”

The meta’s scowl darkened along with the cloud cover, and he crossed his arms over his chest petulantly.

“Never seen him around here before.” Boomer commented, running a boomerang through his fingers.

“Mark wanders around sometimes. We leave him out peanut butter sandwiches when it gets rainy.” Lisa’s voice softened from joking to a more understanding tone. “You shouldn’t attack him unless he annoys you, ok?” 

Digger nodded sharply, before turning with military precision to return to his kitchen lookout.

Mark rubbed his wrists, glaring at the retreating back. “Where did you dig this guy from?”

Lisa sighed, and leaned back in her chair. “You don’t want to know.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …  
> A/N:
> 
> Captain Boomerang has so much PTSD. I took Boomerang from the cwTV show, in terms of back story. Just flub up the time when he got the bomb out of his neck, and pretend the crossover episode with Flash and Arrow didn’t happen exactly the same way.
> 
> I kinda want to make Mick team mom.
> 
> On a completely unrelated note: ass-ass-in is going on the list of words I can’t help but type with out laughing, right next to anal-ysis. Because I’m an adult.
> 
> 7mo


	11. Chapter 11

…

With the Rogue’s growing notoriety, it was inevitable that they would begin to face some confrontation. Luckily for the heroes of the city, a mob war was moderately more subtle than a villain of the week.

It started with invitations, which Len magnanimously ignored. When the various dons realized he would not be attending one of their galas (seriously, where did they think they were, Gotham?), they got more creative.

Not much more, mind you, but Len was still surprised at the pair of brain cells they must have had to come up with the idea to try to talk to him on his own turf.

Not that it worked.

Unfortunately the crucial third brain cell required to take a hint.

For example, when Lisa, in all her golden gliding glory, sidled up to the bar for some drinks and chatter, a man with a green and yellow striped shirt immediately infiltrated her space.

“Can I help you?” She smiled coyly over her whiskey, eyes hard.

“Sure can, baby.” The man said, voice like petrol.

Lisa let out an unamused laugh. “I think not.”

“Don’t be like that, baby. I’m Rosco.”

“I’m not interested.”

She tried to move away, but the creep grabbed her arm. “Where you going, we’re just starting to have fun!”

The woman sighed, and in a practiced move, spun in her heel to grasp the offending hand and twist the attached attacker to the floor. Lisa’s smile was toxic. “I have a boyfriend, thanks.”

“You bitch!” the man growled on his knees. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“About the twelfth idiot I’ve had hit on me this week.” She increased the pressure on his wrist, before throwing him away and leaving, her appetite for a drink completely gone.  
…

“I’ve gathered you all here to discuss the elephant in the room!” Trickster paced in front of the kitchen island, arms folded behind his back, while the rest of the Rogues watched with mild interest.

“Do go on.” Lisa said, filing her nails.

The acrobat spun on his heel. “We really to kick that fat thug out of Saints and Sinners! He made insensitive slurs against Piper’s enlightened world view!”

The Rogues looked at the musician, who rolled his eyes. “He called me a Republican, because I disagree with Hillary’s policy choices.”

James seethed. “I demand recompense!”

“Sit down,” Lisa said, moving to take his place. “While I think Trickster is over reacting, we should do something about those thugs invading our bar. You all know they’re just there to feed off our rise in power.”

“Gina will get mad if you scare away her customers.” Len said, leaning on his arm.

“Rosco. I want him gone.” Lisa’s glare broke no argument. “He’s obviously a plant from the Italians. They want a foothold with the Rogues, so they can bring us down.”

“Infiltrate and strike,” Boomer agreed, sharpening a knife in his corner with concise movements. 

“He might be useful for misinformation.” Piper tilted his head contemplatively.

“No.” Lisa cut off his train of thought before it left the station. “You’re not the one being harassed, so you don’t get final say.” She rounded on the rest of the Rogues. “We need to kick those leather jacket wearing thugs out of our hangout.”

“Leather jackets are cool.” Len protested mildly.

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Not as much as you think.”

The thief bobbed his head condignly. “But we do need to up our membership. The Rogues are a bit too mom and pop sized to spread our business elsewhere.”

His sister was about to reply, when something reflected in the steel refrigerator caught her eye. To the bewilderment of the Rogues, Lisa reached into her pocket and opened up the ever constant compact kept there.

She conferred with the reflection, pouting. “Fine.” 

Lisa tossed her hair, and held out her hand mirror. “This is Sam. We’ve been dating for a while now.”

The thief raised an eyebrow. “Your boyfriend is…a mirror.”

She scoffed. “No, you idiot. Look!” She shoved the compact into his hands.

Indulgently, wondering if straight jackets came in gold, Len looked into the tiny mirror. He nearly dropped the compact.

Beyond the glass, a figure in a green and orange hoodie stared back at him.

Taking a few breaths to calm his palpitating heart, Len took some idle comfort in the fact that his sister was not, in fact, insane.

“So, I’m guessing you’re Sam.” The man in the glass nodded. “And you’re…trapped in a mirror.”

“Not just this one.” His voice sounded like it came through a crystal radio. The image vanished and reappeared in the reflective steel countertop of the kitchen. “I’m in everything that’s like a mirror.”

“That is so cool!” Trickster crowed, launching himself to land behind Cold’s chair to stare at the tiny mirror.

Hartly followed at a more sedate pace. “So, I’m assuming you’re a meta. Your powers must work using light refraction, hm…”

Boomer exchanged a look with Mick, who didn’t particularly care about anything not currently on fire.

Sam shrunk back from the glass, eyes flickering from one face to another as his grin widened. “Nice to meet you all officially.” 

“Wait, if you can move through mirrors, does this mean you’ve been spying on us in the bathroom?” Trickster yelped.

Len smacked the blonde’s head. “Not now James.” He refocused back on the mirror. “So, Sam, what exactly can you do? Can’t just let you freeload off my sister forever.”

Lisa smiled as her beau and brother conferred. Boomer listened casually, and Mick returned to cleaning his gun.

Trickster sighed, draping himself across Hartley’s back. “No one appreciates my genius. Not like you, my little Piper Pie!”

The musician scowled resignedly. “Get off James.”

“No! they’re being mean to me! So I’m going to take you to a nice bar and live vicariously through your snarky comebacks as everyone in there tries to ask you out on a date! Come on!”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …
> 
> A/N:
> 
> Two snow days in a row, (again) that means a chapter for you all!
> 
> There is a disturbing lack of Mirror Master in the Flash fandom. I need to fix this.
> 
> Also, while I can totally ship pipster with the best of them, I find the cannon friendship between Hartley and James so much more interesting. Not only does it give an amazing example of how one need not feel romantically towards someone to go to the ends of the earth for them, but…god, James dies, and Piper’s left as the most powerful being in creation, and his friend still dies, and you don’t need freaking romance to know that their besties because of how sad it is. Also, having an example of such a strong relationship between a gay and straight guy is, I think, revolutionary in fiction.
> 
> So Hartley and James are platonic best friends in my fic. Shit gets epic. If you want to see just how epic, check out the companion fic to this: Trickster and Piper’s Most Excellent Adventure. 
> 
> If you just want Len’s story, continue on here!
> 
> 7.5mo


	12. Chapter 12

…ch12  
…

The morning of the sixth started much like any other. Traffic trundled through the city, and the public transit system was meticulously late. Central’s usual hero was conspicuously absent, but the fiery replacement had been admirable picking of the speedster’s slack for the past few months, so no one thought it unusual.

At precisely two o’clock, a young forensic scientist laid a hand across her belly, an odd expression confounding her face.

Six hundred and twelve seconds later, the patrol car of one Joe West sped from the precinct to Star Labs. Unnoticed, a dark figure on a motorcycle followed two blocks behind and one street parallel to the blaring sirens.

The police vehicle skidded to a stop across three parking spaces, the driver half out of his seat before the keys were out of the ignition.

Across from the parking lot, on one of the many empty facilities left over from the particle accelerator explosion, a man in a dark parka clambered up the fire escape.

Len paced the rooftop, binoculars dangling useless around his neck.

No. This wasn’t good. She was too early. Trust the Flash’s kid to be early to something, with her mother’s perpetual tardiness and other parent’s promptness.

Len’s eyes fixed on the entrance to the lab, waiting. His mind screamed with statistics and numbers, pulling up articles and books he had obsessively poured over between heists.

A bird wheeled overhead, screeching with the garbled nails on tin sound of the nation’s great symbol. Clouds rumbled with half formed thunder, before melting their anvils down to the faintest curling horse tails. Light trailed ponderously across the heavens, before rewinding below the mountain wolf toothed horizon. 

At around three, a burly shouldered figure stumbled out to the cop car stopped in the sparsely populated employee parking lot. 

The thief blinked twice, long enough to profile the figure as Joe West with a deliriously ecstatic grin splashed across his face. Another dark figure joined the first, conversed for a few excitable moments, before they both retired to their separate vehicles and departed. 

Len waited another one-hundred and eighty three seconds, before packing up his rooftop perch. Barry’s doctor was competent enough in her field to want to keep the mother and child over night. He couldn’t do any more here. 

His hands coiled and uncoiled to fists and back, before he promptly returned to his perch overlooking the lab.

By the time morning recoiled from the horizon, Len might have been hallucinating dancing snowflakes. However, the tiny bundle of of pink wrapped in a red blanket making its way to the detective’s newly arrived car in her mother’s arms was all too real.

He ran a hand over his face as the party drove away, sinking back against the cement siding. 

After a short nap, the thief made a milk run to the Central City’s Archives, where a little sweet talking allowed him access into the census department’s records, where a newly printed birth certificate had just been filed.

Michael Henrietta Allen. Mother, Forbearance Beatrice Allen. Father, Unknown.

Len’s throat constricted as he read over the papers. 

That- 

How could she erase him so completely from his own child’s life? A treacherous part of his heart seethed. The colder analytical majority of his psyche wondered how his life might have been different, had his own mother had the courage to do likewise.

Papers bent under the force of his fingers, and Len tucked the file back into the cabinet, before they became irreparably marred. 

That night he allowed himself his first drink in nine months.

By the time he reached the bottom of the glass, he couldn’t help but wonder at Mick’s reaction if he ever discovered Len’s daughter was named after him.  
…

A willowy shadow waltzed across the window’s cream colored curtains, in time to the swooping hum of nonsense words Len could only partially make out. The window was open to let in a touch of cool night air, but the thief knew it would close (one hundred and two seconds) just before the baby was put to sleep (two hundred and three, unless she forgot to turn on the night light and came back. She always came back).

Len scraped his feet against the pavement, as happy little shrieks of laughter filtered down to the street, barely there on the wind unless one listened carefully.

“There’s uncle Irvy!” Barry’s light voice chuckled, as new shadow crossed the curtain. Another laugh as the shadows converged. “Seriously, you’re worse than Cisco at handling children.”

The new tall shadow stood tellingly still, a wriggling lump in its arms. “This is why I will live vicariously through your kid, instead of having a brood of my own.” A deeper voice chortled.

“Are you and Patty not-?”

“Naw. We’re both too wrapped up in work. Besides, after seeing how much of a super mom you are, I think she’s a bit intimidated to try a followup act. I know I sure am!”

More laughter, quickly cut off as the larger shadow jumped and held the lump away at arms length. “Ew, gross! Drool!”

Len’s fingers tapped a stitch against his side, formulas of musculature strain on tiny necks beating through the back of his brain.

“I got it!” Barry swooped in. “Here, there’s a bunch of baby wipes next to the diaper genie.”

“You’ve got a mom gadget for everything, Bear.” The deep voice grew fainter for a moment, and a cupboard door opened and closed.

“Oh, I think Joe’s been buying baby stuff behind my back. I told him not to, and he keeps playing innocent, but I keep finding stuff like this all over the house.” The speedster said absently, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Unbidden, a smile cross the thief’s face.

“You gonna be heading back to the precinct soon?”

Barry hummed, shadowy hands caressing the baby’s head. “It’s been a few weeks, so I’ll probably go back to Flash duty first. Might as well use up all of my maternity leave from the station while I can. Firestorm’s also been hinting that he wants to finally tie the knot with Caitlin. I think little miss here made him want one of his own. Caitlin has sure been hinting at it!”

The duo shared a laugh.

Len made a point to leave some daycare pamphlets in the mailbox before leaving.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …  
> A/N:
> 
> Mick = Michel = french form of the name Michael. Say it with “ch” = “ck”
> 
> Michael is an androgynous name. Sweet. I know the girl name is usually spelt Michelle, but Michael is technically androgynous, and can be pronounced in the same way as Michelle. 
> 
> Also, I think Len would freak out on an unpleasant emotional level if he had a son. There’s too much self hate in there for him to handle having a son. With a girl, well, he was ok raising Lisa. He feels like he could know how be a not horrible father to a girl.
> 
> Also, I have never seen a fic where Len has a little girl. Except for the Nora verse, but that doesn’t count, because Nora is barry’s kid.
> 
> 8.5mo
> 
> Also, I post a chapter ahead of what I post on AO3 on my pro site here: https: // thereibi. wordpress .com/
> 
> So ch13 of KRB is up there


	13. Chapter 13

Stakeouts were as natural to Len as breathing, yet somehow the act of watching a woman take her daughter to daycare (four hundred thirty eight seconds, if she used the stroller with industrial strength wheels that scientist Cisco got her) and dash off to work (thirty two seconds, now that she didn’t have to worry about the baby reacting to her speed) left his nerves rattled.

Perhaps it was because much more than a simple heist was on the line should he be discovered.

At first, Lisa had been displeased at her brother’s level of distraction, thinking he was holding out on her with another heist. Then, when his continual denials finally convinced her of his sincerity, she growled, and informed him that if he wasn’t going to do his job as leader of the Rogues, he better not complain when someone else took over from him.

“I can think of no one better than you.” He smirked.

She tossed her hair. “That’s because you don’t know anyone better than me.”

“True.”

Sighing, she laid a hand on his arm. “But really Lenny, don’t let this new project of yours ruin what we’ve got going on here. You don’t have to take things on alone anymore.”

“Thanks sis,” he said with more sincerity than snark. “I’ll keep that in mind for my next pet project.”

Lisa sighed again, but no longer raised a fuss about her brother’s long absences.

That left Len with more than enough time to memorize the stringent schedule Flash maintained in the wake of returning to the active line of duty, both as a hero and scientist.

Said knowledge came in handy much sooner than he would have liked, when, in the middle of a lazy Wednesday morning, building started exploding in Central. 

Sirens blared from every screen and speaker in the city, warning citizens to immediately return in doors and seek shelter.

Len, having gone to Saints and Sinners to speak with Gina, glanced at the bar’s TV. Scenes of mayhem from across the globe, with gravity defying saucers and laser beams, danced across the screen.

In DC a familiar scarlet speedster and a green guy flying with the aid of some kind of emerald light field tackled one of the invaders before they could trash the white house.

The thief’s knuckles turned white. 

He had been waiting for this day since he stepped foot into this universe.

Len downed the rest of his whiskey, before grabbing his parka and heading to the parking lot.

Aliens. Freaking aliens. When had this become his life?

He pulled out his cell phone, and hit speed dial. 

“I’m just going to first say I told you so.” The words rolled across his tongue with the sweet sweet taste of vindication. “And that all the Rogues should converge at the bunker.”

“Hartley and I are already taking pot shots at these guys from the roof,” came Lisa’s voice. A explosion caused the signal to go fuzzy for a moment. 

“Get out of my city, ET!” Another voice shouted, followed promptly by another series of crashes.

“Make sure Trickster doesn’t accidentally blow up my base.” Len said.

“Tell him your self, I’ve got my hands full with Mick and his damn flame thrower. Turns out these things function fine when on fire, but does that stop him? No! He’s pouting locked in the back room with Shawna.” He heard another gun shot. “When are you heading over?” Lisa panted.

Len hummed noncommittally. “I have to check on something first.” He hung up before his sister could yell at him.

Kicking his motorcycle to life, the thief zigzagged through the mess of overturned cars crowding the streets, until he reached a certain building with a jungle gym and slide contained in its fencing, just a few blocks from the CCPD. 

His organs froze as he pulled into the parking lot, where the damage to the building became apparent where it was not before. The main entrance to the building smoldered quietly, still crackling flames from where one of the invader’s lasers had hit it.

“Come on Barry.” Cold chanted. “Where are you?”

The woman who ran the daycare had already fled, and he made a note to black list her future career endeavors. Flash usually made special arrangements to pick up her daughter on off hours, but it seemed such a contract couldn’t stand against the impending crisis. The building was empty, save for the high reedy cry from deep within the destruction. 

Len waited for half a heartbeat, before slamming his shoulder into a window. It shattered cleanly. 

He pushed his way inside with ease of practice, ears full of the high wail of an infant.

The front entryway and door was completely destroyed, though he knew that just from looking outside. The rest of the little building seemed, thankfully, intact, though thrown into disarray.

Casting about like a bloodhound, Len picked his way through a room he had only seen in blueprints. The wailing increased in volume, until it crescendoed with a tiny girl in a crib as its focal point.

She quieted and opened her bleary blue eyes, just long enough to determine that the stranger was NOTMOM, before her fear fueled tantrum returned full force.

The thief reached into the wooden construct, hesitated, pulled his leather gloves off with his teeth, then picked up the squalling infant.

Vaguely, Len registered that this was the first time he ever held his daughter. 

Digging one handed through the storage bins, he unearthed a simple sling, which he strapped onto his chest, beneath the heavy jacket.

The baby’s pale blue eyes screwed up, and she wailed so hard, her face turned a shade of scarlet more intense than any her mother ever wore. A dark tangle of fuzz coated her scalp, and the thief absently brushed a soothing hand over it, as he zipped her into his parka. She wailed louder, unappreciative of this treatment. Something in the half collapsed ceiling groaned warningly.

“Shush.” He tried not to growl. His fingers twitched as he scanned the falling room for an optimal escape. None presented itself. 

Sighing, he skirted back to the broken window he first used to enter. Crossing one arm to support the bundle on his chest (Neck, back, head. Still breathing), he maneuvered himself through the opening.

Wood splinters clawed at his clothing, but the sturdy fabric remained impenetrable. 

His movements were considerably slowed by his burden, but he still made it out safely. He gave the building at least a few more hours before collapsing completely. Mick would have been able to give a more accurate estimation, being the arson expert.

His hands hesitated over his bike, belatedly wishing he had brought a car. (Noise over 100dB impairing hearing. Smoother turn radius for developing necks. Less crashes and more protection if there was one.) However, one could not be picky in the middle of the apocalypse. 

Slinging a leg over the seat, he kicked his bike into gear and rolled out, taking special care to avoid bumps and other obstacles he would normally ignore in his path.

Pressed against his heart, the little girl snoozed.  
…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> I have so many dad!Len feels to get out, it physically pains me.
> 
> What does DC love more than Batman? That’s Right! Alien Invasions! Yay!
> 
> Also, the bartender at Saints and Sinners finally has a name: Gina.
> 
> Also, I post a chapter ahead of what I post on AO3 on my pro site here: https: // thereibi. wordpress .com/
> 
> So ch14 of KRB is up there


	14. Chapter 14

…

He took her to the only place he knew was safe.

“Cold, why do you have a baby?” Hartley shouted down from the roof, flute paused half way to his lips as the rest of the Rogues gaped.

Len glowered. “Shouldn’t you be more concerned with the unwelcome invasion on our doorstep?”

Trickster flew down. “You didn’t steal that, did you? Are we doing kidnapping now? should I work on my evil laughter?”

The blonde barely managed to dodge the blast of cold aimed for his head. He shrieked and fluttered back to the roof to look out for saucers. 

Len nudged the warehouse door open with a shoulder and stalked to the lower levels, where the stockpile of emergency kits lay stashed in a steel room.

The bunker was as secure as Len could pay for, the plans having been lifted from a paranoid cold war architect and implemented by a reputable contractor, with heavy editing by the Rogue’s own engineer Hartley.

“Is that a baby?” Shawna asked, as he passed her.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” Cold shot back.

Michael fussed, and began gumming at his lapels. He pushed past the nurse before she could voice some sickeningly sweet sound to match the expression on her face.

Inside the bunker, Mick flicked his lighter on and off again, eyes only leaving the fire when his partner walked in.

An eyebrow ticked up at the sight of the baby, but he refrained from comment, for which Len was eternally grateful. 

Said baby vehemently voiced her displeasure at being ignored.

“Shush.” Len tried, running his hand over her back and head.

“Could always try singing.” Mick chimed in. “Usually calms kids down when they’re that little.”

Michael twisted her head around, displeasure discarded as she tried to find the new voice. Len hummed in the back of his throat, and worked to detach the carrier from his shoulders to lay the wriggling burden on one of the cots scattered in the bunker.

“Hope you’re not planning on just leaving her like that, kid will roll off onto the floor.” Mick tugged the pillow off the bed he was using as a seat, and threw it at his partner. “Here, use this to support her sides.”

Len scowled, but tucked it and several other pillows around the baby, cocooning her in a pillow fort.

Stepping back, he cracked his shoulders, unused to the weight of a child hanging off them after so many years. The cold gun knocked against his side with the movement.

Len slowly lowered his arms, adjusting his coat. He should go back outside to defend the warehouse with Lisa and the others, but…

He tore his eyes from the gurgling bundle, already rocking from side to side to test her prison.

His fingers fingers clawed at his palms, ineffectually trying to mitigate his indecision. But there wasn’t much choice; he might wish to remain by her side, but logically would do more good on the front lines.

His eyes ticked to his partner, followed by his face.

“Mick, I need you to watch her for me.”

The pyro looked up from his lighter. “Sure that’s a good idea?”

Len nodded, zipping up his parka. “Her name’s Michael.”

“Good name.” The pyro grunted. “You pick it?”

“No.”

She began to fuss in her soft fort. Mick reached down, unprompted, to lift her up.

The baby regarded him with distain, seeing that he too was NOTMOM. 

Mick chuckled, scared hands dwarfing her head and back and he tucked her to his chest. “Oh yeah, kid’s definitely yours.”

Cold rolled his eyes, before pulling on his goggles and heading to the roof to join the rest of the Rogues. A thought struck, and he hesitated on the stairwell, before turning back.

“If something goes wrong, give her to the Flash.”

Mick met his friend’s eyes, a spark of incredulity kindling in the depths of his gaze as the line of flammable clues lit up to a bonfire of realization. He shook his head. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, boss.”  
…

Several hours later, a portal opened above the city with a boom, sucking all remaining space crafts into the void.

Lisa wiped her forehead and let her arms drop for the first time in hours. “Trickster, you stay on guard up with Boomer here incase another wave comes.” She barked. “Piper, you and Sam make sure the saucers we downed don’t blow up in our faces.”

The engineer nodded, while his friend groaned dramatically at being assigned grunt work. A golden glare silenced him. Boomer accepted the order with the usual quick nod, and Sam was flickering in the reflective metal shell of the craft still smoldering in the parking lot.

Len was already halfway to the staircase.

Down in the bunker, Shawna was bandaging Mark’s chest with gauze, while Mick flicked through the channels on the portable TV, Michael bouncing on his knee.

“Seems like the Flash and her new friends saved the day,” the pyro said when his friend entered.

Len’s eyes focused on the red figure in the background, speaking frantically into her coms behind the reporter. He turned away from the TV.

Mick, having sensed his distress, held out the purloined baby carrier with one hand, while cradling a grumbling Michael with the other. “Looking for this?”

Len shot his friend a rare grateful look, and shrugged off his parka to put on the sling. “Gee Mick, you make the best babysitter.”

The pyro shrugged, handing over the little girl with the same reverence he would a lit match. “This mean I’m godfather?”

“I’ll think about it.” Len said, maneuvering his daughter against his chest, and donning his coat once more.  
…

Despite his eager escape from the Rogues (everything was fine, and Lisa could handle the semantics), Len didn’t actually have any idea where he was going.

He thought about driving to Star Labs, but the facility was most likely swamped with people seeking some kind of explanation for the averted crisis. By chance he rode close to city hall, and caught a glimpse of a familiar emerald light.

Parking his bike in a still standing alleyway, the thief crept towards the ruckus of reporters and crowds trying to get a word in edge wise to the group of heroes standing on the city’s steps.

Cold’s eyes scanned the collective: green guy, Firestorm, chick in blue with a cape, no Flash.

Before he could let out a disappointed sigh, a blue of scarlet zigzagged up the steps to join her compatriots. She was vibrating, gesticulating pleadingly with the two men, who shook their heads by turns, eyes wide. Green guy’s hand flashed a few times as he tried…something, but whatever it was apparently did nothing. 

The mother keened, collapsing sideways onto her fellow heroes. Her cause for concern becoming evident with every pained gasp and hunching curl of her shoulders.

Len contemplated leaving. Just, taking his daughter and running away. Keeping her ignorant of her mother, much like the Flash tried to do to him.

But.

No.

He stepped around the corner, feeling the warm bundle against his heart grumble and drool through his shirt.

A few meters from the assembly, the heroes finally noticed his approach. The glowing green man looked confused at his presence, but respectfully wary of the charged gun at his hip. The reporters hushed as the infamous thief drew nearer, some discreetly packing up their equipment to run, incase a fight broke out.

Firestorm took a moment to recognize his face. Recognition ignited across his features, and he lunged, but the Flash held up an arm, stoping him in his tracks.

“What are you doing here, Cold.” Her voice sounded in danger of shattering all over again.

Len swallowed. “I’m hurt, Flash. Don’t have time for us little people, now that you’ve found yourself some new friends?”

The hero deflated, a hand rising to her mouth, as if to catch a sob. “I don’t have time for this.” Blazing green eyes met his own. “What do you want?” The venom in her tone could have blinded a viper.

“I found something that might be of interest to you.” His hand, still crossed protectively over his chest, worried at the zipper of his coat, before pulling down. 

Michael grumbled imperiously at the shock of cool air and light brushing against her face.

The group of heroes froze at the sight of the child.

Firestorm was the first to come to his senses. Squaring his back with a flare of fire, he took a threatening step forwards. “Just hand the baby over, and no one will get hurt.”

Icy rage seethed through the thief’s demeanor, snapping his shoulders straight as he glared. 

“I’m not the kind of guy who would hurt his own damn kid!” He spat. Unbidden his arms encircled the tiny life still clinging to his chest. “I’m not a monster.” The words held too much of a plea for Len to be comfortable voicing them.

The group started back, glancing between the villain and the Flash, who’s focus had narrowed to a single point.

“Misha!” the mother screamed, flying to her daughter’s side in an instant to pepper her grumpy face with kisses.

Len detached the carrier from his chest, and levered the baby into Barry’s arms. 

The group of heroes shifted uncomfortably, sharing confused glances and gesticulations between themselves, which Len ignored in favor of more important matters.

“She hasn’t been fed in a few hours. Mrs. Pince at the daycare will usually feed her around eleven, but the emergency call went out around that time, so she most likely forgot. She’s been grumbling a lot, and she only does that when she’s hungry.”

“Yeah, she does.” The Flash’s motherly smile melted as she looked up into the man’s face, calculating. 

He didn’t meet her eye. “There was a shop back there with the hypoallergenic formula you like. It’s mostly looted, but I could still get a box or two for you.”

“No.” Her words were careful, cautious. “Len, have you-“ She changed her question mid thought. “Could you keep watch while I-“ She mimed unzipping the front of her red uniform.

The thief nodded, and immediately turned his back and walked off a few paces. Firestorm and the green guy shot him suspicious glances, and he glared frostily back. 

“Eyes to yourself.” He growled.  
…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …  
> A/N:
> 
> There is a significant lack of Justice League in the Flash fandom. Frankly, I’m disappointed.
> 
> I repeat, Len has more issues than the National Geographic.
> 
> Also, the baby looks exactly like him, in case you didn’t catch that.
> 
> Also, Barry calls Michael Misha as a nickname.
> 
> There’s this utterly amazing fanart for DBZ where Vegita yells at Goku for not supporting baby!Pan’s head, and descends into the most adorable conversation about “how shitty baby’s necks are to support their freakish big heads.” That is the dynamic I see happening between Mick and Len during that scene with Michael.
> 
> Also, I post a chapter ahead of what I post on AO3 on my pro site here: https: // thereibi. wordpress .com/
> 
> So ch15 of KRB is up there


	15. Chapter 15

A few weeks after the alien invasion, Cold risked taking his crew out to liberate a few wrecked space ships from captivity. Aside from Piper looking like he was in a candy shop every time he found a potential new toy among their own hunted ET, every piece of tech from those things was worth its weight in platinum on the black market.

He wasn’t taking this heist because Star Labs happened to be the ones in charge of collecting said ships from around the city. Nor did his itchy fingers have any baring on his inability to tail the Flash, now that she knew of his past stalkings. (If he was honest with himself, which he rarely was, Len would welcome whatever punch to the face she dealt out, if only to see that she was ok. Her wellbeing had been a concern for so long, he couldn’t detach the worry from his mind any more.)

Predictably, The Flash appeared, just as Mick and Boomer were pushing one of the saucers into the ice mirror on the floor for Sam to transport through the mirror world.

Len signaled the rest of the Rogues to scatter in the seconds it too the bold of lightning to coalesce into a red clad figure.

With the loot and his crew gone, Len expected a few barbs and banter, before being captured. Instead, as the sirens in the distance grew louder, he was swept off his feet and carried to a familiar grove of trees on the edge of the city.

“Not taking me to jail this time, Flash?” Len said, once his breath returned to him.

Barry tugged at her cowl self consciously. “I wanted to ask you a favor.”

The thief looked pointedly at the miles of uninhabited land around them. “I’m a captive audience.”

“Would you mind watching Misha for a bit?” Her green eyes darted everywhere but his face. 

“I have a Justice League thing. There’s like, a crisis on multiple worlds, or something.” Barry’s voice hesitated over the words. He could imagine her biting her lip and running fingers through her hair, were the cowl not in the way. “Joe’s out of town on a case, Irvy has no idea how to babysit, Cisco and Caitlin are at the Watchtower, and Firestorm’s gonna be gone with me, and-“

“Yes.”

His frank reply startled the both of them.

“Really?” Her voice sounded partially disbelieving. “Thank you. I mean, I can’t call a normal sitter, because Caitlyn thinks my powers might be genetic, and Cisco swears he saw Misha vibrate through her crib, and-“

“It’s fine.”

“Right. Ok. Thanks.” She shuffled the dirt with her boots. “So, if you drop by my place around five, that would be great. I should be back by the late evening, I think. There might be a time discrepancy between dimensions, I’m not sure…” 

“I’ll be there.” He promised.

Barry’s flush glowed from the visible corners of her face. “Right. Ok. Thanks again!” She squeaked, and sped away.

Len waited seven seconds, before a tiny smile curled the corners of his lips. Looked like he was hiking back to central. Again.  
…

Luckily, the middle of nowhere still has cell service, so after staving off Lisa’s curious questions for the length of a car ride, Len arrived on Barry’s doorstep at precisely four o'clock.

The front door opened, to show the flustered mother with a sandwich in one hand and a baby on her opposite hip.

“Thank god, I just got her back from the new daycare.” She handed the infant over, and dashed back into the house.

Len fumbled his grip, until Michael was happily balanced on his shoulder, gnawing on his lapels.

“I was planning to be home sooner,” Barry shouted through the house, leaving lightning in her wake.

“It’s cool.” The thief said, shutting the front door and taking a seat in the living room. Michael grumbled imperiously at the shift in position, but quieted quickly when Len ran his hand over the back of her head.

“Nice outfit.” He said, indicating what the little girl was wearing.

Barry stopped long enough to flush at the foot of the stairs. “She needed a coat for winter, and she goes crazy whenever she sees the color blue, ever since, you know, alien invasion and stuff.”

Len traced a finger over the fluffy parka’s tiny stitching. “Cute.”

The speedster bit her lip, and darted to the top of the stairs. “Could you bring her up while I change?”

“Sure.” The thief maneuvered himself to the top landing, and walked the well known path to the nursery. 

Slightly chewed action figures littered the floor, amidst the usual collection of plush and round cornered books.

“Cisco does not understand how to get age appropriate toys for children.” Barry said, darting into the room, clad in her red boots and costume.

She lifted the little girl into her arms, showering her nose and brow with loud smacking kisses. “You be good while mommy’s away!”

Michael squeaked out a happy gurgle.

The speedster laughed, and plonked the baby into the crib. She turned back to Len with an expression still delirious with motherhood. “She’s all yours, daddy.”

A knot blocked the thief’s windpipe, but Barry didn’t seem to notice as she pulled up her cowl. 

“I already fed her, so she should probably sleep for most of the time I’m gone, but there’s extra milk in the fridge just in case.” She tucked a stray lock of hair under the red fabric, and adjusted her coms. Her expression gained one of far away listening, before she tapped her ear with an affirmation. With a final farewell to her daughter, the Flash was gone.

Len slowly regained the ability to breath. 

Michael fussed in her crib, before sighing, and falling silent.

Running a hand over his head and face, the thief grabbed the baby monitor, and headed down towards the kitchen to familiarize himself with its layout, incase the baby woke up hungry. 

Many hours later, Len paced the nursery floor, child hooked over his shoulder in protest to being left alone in her crib.

Barry hadn’t returned from her hero-ing yet, and the clock was making its way back to single hour digits.

He huffed, fingers of his free hand tapping against his thigh. He would wait another hour, before taking Michael home with him. Len didn’t feel comfortable sleeping in Barry’s foster father’s house, not simply because he knew the ease with which one could break in.

The little girl cooed and gummed at his lapels.  
…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …  
> A/N:
> 
> Not much for this chapter, other than Len being probably the most attentive babysitter ever. Michael is gonna be so spoiled when she gets bigger. Len would totally cave the second she batted her big blue eyes at him.
> 
> Also, Michael is being such a well behaved baby. At her age, there are two types of people in the world MOM and NOTMOM. One gets affection, the other gets screaming.
> 
> Also, I post a chapter ahead of what I post on AO3 on my pro site here: https: // thereibi. wordpress .com/
> 
> So ch16 of KRB is up there


	16. Chapter 16

…

Len did end up taking a car this time, instead of his motorcycle, thus was easily able to transport a cooler of milk, assorted toys, foldable crib, and car seat back to his warehouse.

The second he opened up the door, Len knew he should have taken his daughter to one of the less secure, but less used hideouts he had around the city.

He tried to sneak through the common living space to his bedroom, but the moment he stepped into the light, the collected Rogues turned to him. He felt like a cat at puppy daycare.

“No.” He immediately growled, stalling whatever the collective had prepared to say. Michael grumbled from her familiar place strapped to his chest under his parka.

“But look at all the baby toys we got!” Trickster whined, slinging a bag full of what must have been the entire back isle of a child’s playtime fantasy. 

“I checked them all for small parts and explosives.” Piper chimed in.

“See Lenny, we’ll all be on our best behavior. Now let me see my cute little niece!” Lisa prompted, gliding over and maneuvering the child from his coat, taking full advantage of his hands being full of other baby paraphernalia. 

Mick, the ever reliable, clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder, and silently volunteered to get the rest of the stuff out of the car, freeing Len to put the milk in the fridge. The other three Rogues followed in light of his burning stare of demand.

Lisa cooed, practically dancing with the baby in her arms. “I don’t believe it, she’s not yours. No way you made something this cute!”

“She takes after her mother.” The thief mumbled, putting the milk cooler in the fridge.

The woman stopped and raised an eyebrow. “You know I was kidding, right? Michael looks just like you, of course she’s yours.”

Len scowled. “You looked just like that when you were a baby. And most kids grow out of blue eyes.”

Lisa sighed indulgently. “Whatever, she’s still beautiful.”

The thief’s gaze softened. “Yeah.”

Mick’s head popped into the living room. “Need some help with the crib.”

Len raised a brow. “You just have to follow the instructions and unfold it.”

“Boomer got his hands on it before I could stop him.” Mick grunted. 

The thief’s eyes widened in alarm, and he stalked into the bedroom. Immediately the sounds of swearing and hammer on metal sounded.

“Here, I’ll help you idiots.” Lisa sighed, putting the baby on the floor amid a fortress of cushions, and sauntering away to the makeshift nursery.

Once she was out of sight, James appeared from around the corner, toting his ever resigned musician. 

The acrobat swept the little girl into his arms and spun around the room.

“Careful!” Hartley chided. “She should get hurt!”

The Trickster’s swirls slowed, and he stared into the baby’s blue eyes. She scowled. He grinned widely and kissed her forehead. An imperceptible spark of gold flashed where their skin connected. 

Michael sneezed, and the Trickster drew back.

“Naw, she’s a Rogue’s baby. We won’t let anything bad happen to her.” He nuzzled into her downy dark hair. “No we won’t! No we won’t! Especially since your mama’s so hard at work saving the world! Yes she is! Yes she is!”

Piper plucked the child from his companion’s arms. “And with that, you’ve lost baby holding rights.”

“Hey!” James cried, grabbing at the air to indicate his want of baby hugs.

“She’s not a dog!”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, she’s not even talking. It doesn’t matter. Now gimme!”

“No!” Hartley backed up a step, holding Michael against his shoulder, where she became fascinated with drooling all over his hood.

Trickster bounced to his feet, reaching out playfully. “Come on!”

“You are not responsible enough to handle a child!” The musician countered, dancing further out of reach.

“What are you two idiots doing?” Boomed a commanding voice. 

Both Rogues froze as Lisa strode back into the room. 

“You better not be playing keep away with my niece.” Her tone could have cut glass.

“No ma’am!” The duo chorused together.

“Good.” She barked, scooping Michael from Hartley’s arms. The baby cooed, and pulled on her shiny necklace. Lisa laughed. “Already have good taste. We’ll make a Rogue of you yet! Yes we will!”

“Why does she get to talk to the baby like that?” Trickster mumbled. Piper shoved him in the ribs with an elbow.

“It’s because I’m godmother, obviously.” Lisa drawled. “You lot can fight over who’s godfather-“

“That’s me.” Mick rumbled, re-entering the room with a contrite Boomer in tow. From the back room, the group could hear Len swear and metallic clanging. The pyro flopped back onto the couch, laid back posture daring anyone to contradict him. 

James and Hartley shared a look.

“Guess that makes me the cool uncle.” The blonde said.

“And I’m the responsible one.” Piper sighed.

“Does that make me the godfather-in-law?” Sam queried from the mirror.

Lisa nodded imperiously. “That leaves Boomer as the uncle in the attic, and Shawna and Mardon as the holiday cousins.”

Michael pulled at her aunt’s earrings. Lisa winced and tugged the jewels from her grip. “No no, Mimi, that’s not for playing with.”

The baby’s expression turned mutinous. Screwing up her face like a gargoyle, she let out the beginnings of a displeased warble.

Immediately the loud thumping of tools could be heard, followed by stomping feet.

“What’s wrong?” Len boomed. 

The Rogues broke down into a flurry of explanations, which their leader magnanimously ignored.

Stalking over to his sister, he pulled the screaming baby from her arms. Michael quieted at this change of persons, and cracked her blue eyes open long enough to identify her new carrier as NOTMOM. 

Len distracted her with the lapels of his parka, before snapping at his gang. “Clearly none of you know how to look after a child.”

“I dunno, I handle James and Piper ok.” Mick grunted.

Michael, too long ignored in her father’s arms, chose that moment to let out the delayed scream trapped in her tiny lungs.

“Lenny, you’re completely right.” Lisa winced, hands twitching to press over her ears. “I’ll just leave you to handle her from now on.” With a side look at Sam, the couple vanished into the mirror.

Betrayed Len cast about, but Piper and Trickster had already leapt out of the window, and Mick looked too amused to be of any help.

“We’ll just get out of your hair.” The pyro smirked and stood with a languid stretch. “Come on Boomer, there’s a bar down the way you can always find a nice fight in…”

The door slammed, leaving the thief alone with a squalling infant.  
…

“Shush.” He tried, rubbing his hand over her back and head.

Michael only screamed harder.

“I’ve fed you, I’ve burped you, I’ve changed you- you clearly take after Lisa in being easy to make happy.” He bounced on his toes. Her cries stuttered for a blissful second, before returning with increased fervor.

A smoke laden suggestion echoed in the back of his mind, and Len felt himself desperate enough to try out Mick’s advice. He cleared his throat, and hoped his tune would stay firmly in the bucket for him to carry. “It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside. I’m not one of those, who can easily hide.”

“I don’t have much money, but boy if I did, I’d buy a big house where, we all could live.” His voice slid over the melody uncertainly, but gained traction as the baby quieted to listen.

“So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do. See I’ve forgotten if, they’re green or they’re blue.” He risked moving towards the couch, breathing out a silent sigh of relief as Michael stayed captivated. “Anyway the thing is, what I really mean… yours are the sweetest eyes, I’ve ever seen.”

Easing himself to a seat, the thief reclined against the arm rest, resting the muscles in his legs after what seemed like hours of pacing. “And you can tell everybody, this is your song. It may be quite simple, but now that it’s done…”

Her eyelids fluttered as the iron grip on his collar slackened, and the baby leaned her full tired weight against his body.

“I hope you don’t mind, that I put down in words… How wonderful life is, now you’re in the world.”

Michael gummed at her fist, liberally spreading drool across Len’s chest. The thief couldn’t help the smile that plucked the corners of his mouth. He leaned back against the couch cushions, and tried to keep his fluttering breath even, so as not to disturb his daughter.  
…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …  
> A/N:
> 
> Len is singing Your Song, the version sung by Ellie Goulding. My dad used to sing to me when I was little, and every time Brown Eyed Girl came on, he’ld do it just for me. So, Fathers, be good and sing to your daughters. We appreciate it. Because girls become lovers, who then become mothers, so fathers be good to your mothers too. That’s also a song reference, fyi.
> 
> Also, I post a chapter ahead of what I post on AO3 on my pro site here: https: // thereibi. wordpress . com/
> 
> So ch17 of KRB is up there


	17. Chapter 17

…

Everyone had assumed Michael was Eddie’s.

The baby’s persistent blue eyes, the way her mother refrained from mentioning the father, her constant doting- everyone from Joe to Sighn assumed the little girl was all that remained of the Flash’s former boyfriend, who sacrificed himself to defeat the Reverse Flash.

Barry never corrected them.

On occasions when the identity of her baby daddy was brought up and her fellow police officers or heroes lowered their voices in apology, she would casually tell them to ‘chill’. She had loved Eddie, but had cried all the tears she had left months ago.

When the Flash joined up with the conglomerate of heroes which would be known as the Justice League, Oliver threatened bodily harm to any hero who mentioned Barry’s lost love in her presence.

When the speedster found out, her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes when she told him to ‘cool his heels’ before someone lost an eye.

When that first alien invasion occurred, and the true identity of Michael’s father came out, the Arrow could have kicked himself at the overlooked trail of ice puns leading to this obvious conclusion.

The media certainly had a field day, as a few brave reporters risked being in the middle of a super villain battle, and got an exclusive of Cold and Flash embracing over the blurry form of a child. Irey had a fun time sidelining headlines at work, and eventually convinced Barry to give a short interview.

“I know it’s none of their business,” the reporter apologized. “But, you’re a celebrity Bear. They’re not gonna just leave this alone.”

The heroine sighed, but consented to answering the mundane list of questions.

Yes, she was a single parent. No, she didn’t have trouble juggling her duties to the city and motherhood, she had family and friends to help out. No, her baby’s father wasn’t around. No, his identity was not up for discussion. Cold, haha, can you picture me and my arch nemesis? What a laugh! 

The public ate the interview up, with minimal rebuttals quoting Cold’s seeming kidnapping attempt of the Flash’s kid. Because, no one in Central could believe the Flash and he were together. The Scarlet Speedster could do no wrong in their eyes!

Unfortunately, the League’s members had more acute vision. Barry didn’t try denying anything to them. There was no point (what will half of the members being psychic in some form or other, and the rest being detective enough to spot what a horrible liar Barry was).

Ever since then, the Flash’s… relations with her main nemesis became common water jug gossip for the members of the Justice League.

Theories about the creation of her daughter ran from star crossed romance, to discreet threats against the cold villain’s life. Flash broke those specific rumors up with an iron clad denial of being coerced. 

“We were in a bar, he didn’t know my identity.” Her eyes flickered at that uncertainty, but she blundered on. “You are not allowed to murder him Hal!”

“I beg to differ.” The Arrow growled, looming near the edges of their confrontation.

Barry sighed into her palms. “Not you too Oliver!”

Others were more understanding of her life choice to be a single parent.

“How else would you raise a daughter?” Wonder Woman scoffed. “On Amazonia in ancient times, the men were never granted the honor of doing more than being a sire to our children.”

“Er, thanks Diana.” Flash said, moderately confused, but knowing the sentiment to be meant positively.

The immortal princess nodded, clapped her comrade on the shoulder in a gesture of solidarity, and stalked off, sword glinting on her hip.

“God, I hope my kid grows up to be as cool as her.” The speedster breathed.

“With you as a mother, I have no doubt she will!” Came the call from around the corner.

Barry flushed scarlet.  
…

Making the decision to leave her daughter with Cold during the latest world ending crisis was a long calculated move on her part.

Barry… had never guessed Len wanted anything to do with their child. He didn’t react much when she told him initially of the proverbial bun in the oven, more for politeness sake than anything. (She might have entertained romantic notions of him finally seeing the error of his ways, succumbing to the good in him, and turning over a new leaf, but Barry knew logically that real life didn’t work that way.)

He never showed his face during her pregnancy, other than that strange gift of a million dollars left on her pillow near the beginning. She expected him to at least come around to question why she rejected his offering, but when he never did, she put the matter out of her mind.

Only when the thief appeared at the edge of a battlefield holding her greatest treasure reverently against his heart did she even begin to realize the extent to which he had tried to comply with her initial wishes of never seeing him again.

The serendipitous findings in Joe’s old attic and the never ending stocks of gadgets and helpful business cards and booklets suddenly were cast in a more suspicious light. When she finally gave into her curiosity and dusted a pamphlet for fingerprints, she was forced to sit somewhere quiet for a few hours to reorganize her thoughts.

Her mind wandered back to the expression of broken joy on her father’s face whenever she visited him in jail, as if he couldn’t believe the gift he was granted in seeing his little girl grow up, even from a distance.

The heels of her hands pressed against her eyes. How much of a distance had Len been prepared to watch? Would he have continued his unacknowledged vigil from the shadows had the invasion not prompted him to act? Would captain Cold have become a simple whisper on the lips of others as he stuck to his promise of never having to burden her with the sight of his face?

She was such an idiot, but so was he, so maybe it all balanced out.  
…

Barry could have found someone else to watch Michael. Despite what she told Len, she could have wrangled Irvy into babysitting, and failing that, Felicity was stuck in a support position back in Star City and could have easily taken the toddler as well.

But, Len needed an excuse to be involved with his daughter’s life, after being resigned to the shadows for so long. And Barry wanted to give him that excuse.

So, at the next heist of the Rogues, she cornered him, and asked.

Her heart nearly broke at the expression on his face when he said yes, as if he was only tenuously sure that he wasn’t hallucinating.

She rushed through leaving the house, as if by not lingering over leaving her daughter for this mission, she could forget the way Cold held her as if she were an apparition of spun glass.

Hal asked a few times if she was ok during the mission, and Arrow yelled at her more than once to get her head back in the game. She nearly would have lost an eye, if not for Supergirl swooping in at the last minute.

Luckily, the crisis was averted, thanks to some mystery being solved, and a galactic power being swayed to the side of less than apathy, or something.

But that wasn’t important. What was important, was that apparently space and time were not as connected as the theory of relativity would suggest, and the Flash found herself trapped in an alternate Earth for much longer than the initial mission parameters had stated.

The moment the League touched back down on home sweet terra-firma-1, Barry was off like a bolt of lightning towards Central City.

Her heart skittered as she searched her house, devoid of both baby and thief. A gnarled twig of panicked rage took root in her mind. How could she have been so stupid as to leave her daughter, /her daughter/, with some criminal, even if he was her other genetic donor? 

He could be hiding her somewhere to use as leverage for-

No.

Calm down.

Barry took a settling breath, and tried to steady her pulse. She said she would be back that evening, but with the mission going over that, she shouldn’t have expected Len to stay in Joe’s house. Where would he go?

The answer came immediately, and she dashed away to his warehouse stronghold.

She zigzagged up the flights of stairs, taking in the suspiciously empty living space and kitchen with half a glance, before zeroing in on Cold’s room.

Lightning crackled around her ankles and she stopped just outside of his door, hand pressed against the flimsy wood as she listened. Inside a low murmur crooned a lilting melody in time with light footsteps. 

“You could become a piper, or you could become a queen, you could become a knight, or you could take everything. But I became a weaver of these baskets that you see, this is a song of a basket weaver. Layla layla lee…”

She turned the knob slowly, and peered inside.

There they were. Len pacing the floor next to a severely battered foldable crib, Misha cradled in his arms, drooling onto his shoulder.

Barry pushed her way inside the room.

“How on earth did you do that? I usually have to take her running around the city twice to get her to drop off!”

Len started, one hand jolting to his thigh, where the cold gun usually sat.

“You’re late,” the thief said lowly, shoulders relaxing.

Her bashful smile still lit up the room. “I know. I’m sorry. Hero-ing went a bit longer than expected.”

Misha grumbled, and both parents’s attention focused back on her.

“Why don’t you put her down for the night here,” Barry said lowly. “And you can tell me how it all went?”

Len’s smirk was softer than she had ever seen it before. “It would be my pleasure.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …  
> A/N:
> 
> I have so many questions about the island of the Amazons. If you go purely Greeko-Roman, men were essentially captured as brood stallions and then worked to death as slaves. I think Diana would be oddly fascinated with family dynamics in the rest of the world.
> 
> Len’s singing a loose translation of a Spanish lullaby I sang in a chorus once. It’s either called ‘Song of a Basket Weaver’ or ‘Canta Mia Madre’ or neither of those. I can’t recall, but it seemed fitting.
> 
> Also, I post a chapter ahead of what I post on AO3 on my pro site here: https: // thereibi. wordpress .com/
> 
> So ch18 of KRB is up there


	18. Chapter 18

…

Of course it was Oliver who started it.

Ok, well, technically it was Felicity who told him, because Barry had told her in a moment of much needed girl talk, and the hacker could really only keep secrets that were life threatening, and this secret technically wasn’t a secret anyway…

But still, it was Oliver who started it.

Barry was in the League cafeteria, downing her third BLT, while chatting amiably through the headset attached to her cowl. “So you’re still ok to watch her tomorrow night? …Yeah, and next week you’re ‘otherwise occupied’ uh hu. Just don’t expect me to keep you out of jail. You’re not that good of a babysitter.” Her sparkling laughter sounded after the caller’s reply. “No, don’t tell me. I’ll be obligated to stop you… Right, ok. I’ll call you back when you’re done. Bye!”

She hung up with a click, and was about to return to her meal, when a green leather shadow loomed over her shoulder.

“I can’t believe you’re humoring your villains.”

Barry sighed exasperatedly. “Oh my god, drop it!”

“You’re leaving your daughter with a criminal!”

“Misha’s his daughter too, Oliver.”

The archer’s eyes narrowed. “Is that why you’re doing this? Did he pressure you? Blackmail?”

“Cold and I have an understanding.” Her eyes turned hard. “Just drop it. It’s none of your business.”

“I think it is, seeing as my god-daughter’s safety might be in question, as well as your own!”

“You still have to defeat Irey for that title. And I think Cisco after him.”

“Don’t change the subject, Barry.”

She tossed her hair. “And I’m telling you to back off!” Her demeanor softened at the tense set of his jaw. “I know you’re worried, but Len wouldn’t hurt Misha, or me.”

“He put you down with frost bite last week during one of his heists.”

Her shoulders wobbled noncommittally. “And I punched him in the face for that.” She sighed. “Look, we leave the capes and cowls out when Misha’s involved, ok? He’s not evil, like Reverse Flash or your villains, ok? He’s just…complicated.”

Oliver’s arms crossed over his chest, face darkening as he took in his companion’s fond voice.

“You like him, don’t you.”

She flushed cheery red, but refused to back down. “What can I say, I appreciate a man who babysits for free.”

“Barry, he seduced you under false pretenses-“

Her head snapped to face him, like a viper. “Don’t you ever say that, Queen. I was the one who approached him, and even with that it took half the bar for him to let me even hold his hand. So don’t you dare ever imply what I think you’re implying, or you will see exactly how a super sonic slap to the face feels.”

With that she turned on the heel of her boots and sped away, leaving the grim faced archer alone next to a half eaten sandwich.  
…

Finding the leader of the Rogues was not as difficult as the Arrow anticipated it being. Perhaps he was simply used to more subterfuge in his own gallery of villains. 

In any case, he caught the thief on a rooftop casing a museum after a few hours of searching through Central. He had his bow out and arrow drawn in an instant.

Cold raised his empty hands slowly. “Does the Flash know you’re in her city arresting innocent sight seers?”

“Does she know you’re in her city about to rob it?”

“Touché.” Blue eyes ticked over his shoulder. “But Flash and I have an understanding. Last I checked, you were still stationed in Starling”

The arrow pricked the back of his neck. He could feel a bead of blood well and slide beneath his collar.

“And if you two didn’t have that, you wouldn’t be standing right now. But I’m not here to talk about your criminal activity, Cold.”

“Oh?”

He could practically hear the hero’s teeth grind as he spoke. “She told me about what you did that night you saw her in the bar.”

The thief’s organs chilled.

“You better do right by her, or-“

Len had had enough. Snarling, he rolled to the side and pulled out his gun with one quick movement.

Green Arrow froze and Cold glared, eyes refracting like glaciers.

“What kind of woman do you think she is? Flash doesn’t need some overcompensating hero pushing choices onto her. And even if she did want anything to do with me, how dare you try and foist her into a relationship where she could get hurt, just because you think she needs some societal approval for her child!”

His finger itched at the trigger. “So don’t you stand there on your high horse and say you’re trying to help her by doing this. If Barry ever wants a relationship, it will be because she fell stupidly in love with some idiot who worships the ground she runs on, not because her friend strong armed a mistake into following her, and not through some twisted parody of pity.”

He froze the bow to the cement roofing with a single shot, and slid down the fire escape to his bike, before the hero could gather himself.

Len’s fingers twitched against the gas, and his internal monologue swore up a blue streak.  
…

Later, as he was closing the door to the nursery, the idol of his thoughts crept to his side.

“I’m convinced your meta power is getting her to drop off like that.”

Unbidden, the corners of his mouth moved upwards. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

Barry hummed under her breath, motioning with her head for him to follow her down the stairs to the kitchen. Detective West was working late with the Meta Task Force at the precinct, or at least, that was what Barry had assured him.

She opened the fridge. “Do you want anything? We’ve got beer…”

“No thanks,” the thief drawled. “I’m drying to cut back.”

The speedster rolled her eyes and pulled out a sports drink for herself. “So what do I owe you for watching her this time?”

“Your sparkling smile.”

Chuckling, she settled her elbows on the counter across from him. “I feel like I’m taking advantage of you, with how much I’ve been asking you to last minute babysit.”

“What can I say? Regular employment keeps me on the straight and narrow.”

Her lashes lowered, casting shadows under her too green eyes. “Would you maybe want to go out for a coffee some time?”

He smirked. “You mean like a date?”

“Yes.” Her tone grated against his light humor.

A chill drizzled down the thief’s spine, and he frowned. “You don’t want to date me Flash.”

“Yes I do.” A tiny pout sprouted on her lips. “Come on, stop being difficult, I’m serious.”

All traces of mirth leeched from his being, replaced by a creeping howl of freezing air. “No, you don’t.”

His tone changed the girl’s demeanor from confrontational to careful.

“Len?” Barry’s soft voice tried to break through the ice storm of thoughts, but the thief couldn’t hear her over the crying wind.

Shaking his head, he stumbled back. “I can’t.”

She matched his step and moved forwards. “Why?”

The shaking grew more fevered, spreading down his neck to overtake his clenched hands. “I can’t.” He growled again, before sweeping out of the house.  
…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …  
> A/N:  
> Len, you’re an idiot. He can’t really handle having a relationship with Barry that is beyond snark and joking, because once something becomes serious, people can get hurt. This particular issue is under the collection titled: Low Self Esteem. 
> 
> Also, I might have accidentally made Len a feminist. He’s got lots of mom feels, and never wants to see a woman put into that position again.
> 
> Also, I like to post a chapter ahead of what I post on AO3 on my pro site here: https: // thereibi. wordpress .com/
> 
> However, graduate school means this is gonna be the last update for a while…at least until June, probably, sorry folks…


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> …  
> A/N:
> 
> Lisa calls Michael Mimi as a nickname. Barry calls her Misha. Len…doesn’t have a nickname for her yet.
> 
> Guess who got an extension on their midterm paper~ (and is procrastinating on it instead of writing it, oh god what am I doing with my life)~

…

Lisa found her brother hunched over his desk, blueprints scattered everywhere as he feverishly plotted heists in a way she recognized as him trying to avoid something.

She leaned accusingly over his shoulder, until he looked up with a snap.

“What?”

Her eyebrows drew together at his strangled tone. “You ok Lenny?”

“I’m fine.” Came the clipped reply, before he turned back to his work.

Papers shuffled. Lisa mentally tallied through the list of individuals whos’s wellbeing could cause such distress in her sibling, assured herself that she was fine, and settled on the only other culprit. She moved to sit on the desk corner. 

Her brother growled. “What?”

Lisa tilted her head. “Everything ok with Mimi?”

Blue eyes flicked to her, before darting away. Glider knew she had struck gold.

“My niece isn’t sick or something, is she?” 

Len shook his head with a jerk, trying to re-immerse himself in the heist.

“Then…her mama’s reconsidering leaving a baby with a criminal?”

His fingers spasmed around a file, and it crumpled in his fist. He threw it away and settled the entirety of his considerable focus on his sister. “What do you want Lisa?”

“To make sure you’re not ruining what you’ve got going on with our girl in red.” Her head tilted to the side. “She hasn’t been lecturing you about joining her little caped crusade, has she?”

“We don’t talk business when we’re together.”

“I imagine those conversations must be diverting in other ways then, what with all the time you’ve been spending over her place.”

“I’m watching-“

Lisa scoffed. “Lenny, a girl doesn’t trust any guy with her baby, unless she wants him to call her baby.”

“It’s not like that.”

“The please do enlighten me, my data set must be skewed.”

A siren wailed in the far distance, heralding some mundane crisis. In the walls, aged pipes creaked and bubbled, as the doorways settled.

“She doesn’t know what she’s doing, inviting me into her life like this.” Hiss blue eyes darted wildly around the room. “She’s too trusting. Too-“ He broke off with a growl, hands curling into palm piercing talons.

“Lenny…” His sister tried to reach out, but the thief flinched away, face haunted.

“Lisa, if I ever hurt them, you make sure I never can again.”

Her face fell. “Lenny, you know you would never-“

“Promise me.” A drop of water trailed down his face to the floor.

She pursed her lips, fingers fisted in her lap as she nodded. “All right.”

A careful hand found its way to his shoulder, and he tensed, before consciously forcing his muscles to recognize his sister’s touch.

“What happened?”

Len pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes, hollow laugh snapping from his throat. “She asked me on a date.”

“And you said no.”

“Obviously.”

“Did you at least use tact?”

He turned his head away from her.

“Good.” Lisa squeezed his shoulder once, before releasing him. “You’re horrible at tact, so we still might be able to salvage the situation.”

In a smooth movement, she swept his laptop from the desk and opened the browser.

“What are you doing?” Her brother sighed, demeanor recomposed.

“Helping.” She pulled up the address of the most expensive restaurant in Central. “Take her here.”

The thief frowned. “I don’t think-“

His sister glared. “You have a lot to make up for, mister. And if I were her, I wouldn’t settle for less than being showered with diamonds. The least you can do is take her someplace nice!”

Len didn’t shrink back, but the way he tilted his head forward in resignation made his sister smile.  
…

“So…” Len tried to keep his eyes off the miles of leg Barry attempted to pull the hem of her dress over. “This is…nice?”

The thief’s eyes ticked to his date, before flashing away to glare at the waiter for ogling to overtly. The kid squeaked, and ran back into the kitchens.

Barry’s fingers ticked at the crook of his arm, where her hand was hesitantly tucked. “I was really surprised when I got your text.”

“I wanted to do something special.” He carefully didn’t mention how his sister stole his phone to send said text asking the Flash out. 

The woman at his side flushed. “Well, this place is definitely special! Last time I came here, Ray bought out the whole place, and-“

Len listened raptly as his date babbled about some hilariously disastrous double date she went on with the Atom and Felicity, nodding in appropriate places.

The concierge interrupted the stream of words with a polite cough and showed them to their table. Cold brushed the man aside, and pulled out Flash’s chair himself.

Barry flushed again, elbows tucked close to hide the low, low slits that spun the back of her clothing to artfully draped ribbons. He pushed the chair in, eyes focused securely on the ceiling, before seating himself.

The waiter waltzed over carrying a bottle of wine which probably cost more than an average month’s rent, and poured just enough into their glasses for the heavy taste to become apparent.

The speedster picked her way through the appetizer of some tiny french bread squares drenched in oils and cheeses with foreign sounding names.

“So, uh, how has uh, work been?”

The thief raised an eyebrow. “You really don’t want to know.”

She bit her lip. “Oh. Right.”

Barry tucked the corner of her red dress under her knees, and refolded the napkin across her lap. Her stomach growled audibly, and she eyed the breadcrumbs on her plate with consideration.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Len asked.

“God yes!” She flushed. “Not that I don’t like the restaurant, or anything, it’s just-“

“Not your speed.”

Her grin sparkled like a diamond. “Yeah.”

Len’s smirk should have been illegal, as he elegantly pulled out his date’s chair. Mimicking his regality, the speedster curtsied as best she could, and allowed him to take her arm as they swept from the restaurant.

“Did we just leave without paying?” Barry chuckled once they were a block away.

“Alert the press, the Flash is a dine and dash!”

She snorted, gesturing down at the pin prick points attached to her heels. “Not in these shoes I’m not!”

Len risked a curving glance down, and almost didn’t feel his mouth water at the sight. “It’s not your usual style.” He hedged.

“Oh, Felicity lent me one of her dresses.” She pulled at the hem again. “And the heels. Though, I think that was just so I couldn’t run and accidentally set the outfit on fire.”

“That a common problem for you?”

She sighed long sufferingly. “You have no idea.”

“Maybe you should douse yourself with something cool to stave off the heat.”

Barry choked. “That line was so puny it hurt.”

Len smirked like a canary that outsmarted the cat. “So, where shall we dine this evening, since our last venue proved to be unsuited to out tastes?”

The speedster pressed her lips together self-consciously, eyes ticking sideways to her date. “…You know I’m really in the mood for a burrito.”

“Well, what a coincidence. We happen to be only half a city from the best place in town. Good thing we parked on the street.”

“Hey, I didn’t want the valet peaking up my dress! I needed a brick wall at my side to save my decency when I get out of the car!”

“Whatever you say Scarlet.”

She bumped her shoulder against his. “Ugg, now all I can think of is you calling me a scarlet woman whenever you say that!”

“The color does suit you.”

She flushed. “Shut up and get me my burrito.”  
…

Much later, after Len developed a semi-permanent twitch from glaring at every individual who’s inclination for the fairer gender was made apparent upon seeing his date, the couple pulled up to the West household. An orange streetlamp buzzed contentedly overhead, bouncing silver lights off the hood of the car.

“You probably should let me out here. Joe’s home, and while I’m not opposed to seeing you in handcuffs, it might be a bit awkward if my foster father was involved.”

Len choked.

Barry glanced over as he coughed, trying to get some air back in his floundering lungs, one brow raised. “What really? That’s what gets you? We literally had an entire conversation about decaying bodies over guacamole.” Her smile could have lit a forest on fire.

The thief busied himself with turning off the engine, and didn’t notice when his companion leaned the extra foot into his space.

Her breath tickled his ear as she tucked her head in close. “Least now I know what to get you for our third date!”

With a peck on the cheek he could barely feel, the woman darted out of the car in a thunder of lightning, leaving a mildly speechless thief in her wake.

Later when Lisa demanded to know how it went, the smile still hadn’t left his face.

…


	20. Chapter 20

…

Despite the Flash’s increasing number of adventures with the Justice League, strange and unusual happenstances still somehow managed to find her back home in Central.

For instance, the odd glowing blue portal which had mysteriously appeared in the basement of Star Labs, which had Cisco phoning her at two in the morning, voice almost too frantically fast for even her to follow.

“I think it’s a portal to an alternate earth!” The scientist squeed when the hero arrived at the lab.

Barry tilted her head. “I dunno, it could just be a kind of Boom Tube. I think Barda mentioned-“

“Nope!” Cisco brandished his ipad. “I already analyzed it; this thing has a completely different vibrational frequency than anything in our universe.”

“Huh.” She rubbed her eyes. “So… what are we gonna do about it? We should probably do something about this. We can’t just keep an inter-dimensional portal in the basement. We’re not Batman, because he totally has everything in his bat-basement.”

Cisco pulled out a tennis ball. “Let’s throw stuff into it! You know for science!”

Barry blinked a few times at the bright green sphere, feeling the early hours weigh upon her ability to concentrate. “…if it’s for science, we’re going to need more of those.”

“Way ahead of you!” The scientist grinned, nodding his head towards a bucket in the corner full to the brim.

The heroes each took a ball. 

“So, who gets to throw first?” Barry asked.

“Can I? I found it.”

The speedster tossed the ball in her hand, debating whether she should mention how she was woken at an ungodly hour, but conceded. “Sounds fair. Ok.”

Cisco beamed, and turned to the glowing blue portal. “I love all the choices I’ve made that led to this moment in my life.” Winding up dramatically, he let the tennis ball fly. It shot through the center of the blue mass, which wavered like a jellyfish, before settling.

“That’s a solid ten.” Barry applauded lightly.

Her friend bowed dramatically. “Thank you, thank you.”

The duo’s giggling had almost settled completely, when something came whizzing out of the portal with such force, it bounced off the lab’s back wall. 

Barry was immediately on guard, while Cisco ducked down to avoid any other potential projectiles.

The thing bounced a few more times, before rolling to the pair. They blinked.

“Did…did the portal just spit my tennis ball back out at me?”

“Looks like.”

The waiver of blue rippled, and Cisco ducked down for cover again, only this time, instead of returning fire, a blur of red lightning zoomed through the portal’s heart.

The electricity Barry had been collecting in her hand faded, as the shape coalesced itself into a familiar costume.

Two pairs of hazel eyes blinked at each other, askant.

“Dude!” Cisco crowed from where he was slowly emerging from his shelter. “Doppleganger!”

Both speedsters snorted with ill restrained laughter.

“So,” Barry said, hands patting her hips in a gesture of indecision. “Are you the evil twin, or am I?”

Bartholomew pulled the red cowl off his face. “No, I went to that Earth. It sucks. Pretty sure this is just rule 63-ed.”

“What?” Barry asked.

“What?” Her twin said in reply, uncomprehending.

The speedster shook her head. “Never mind. Why are you here? It’s not a multiverse thing again, is it? Because last time I had to leave the baby with Len, and things got weird.”

This time Bartholomew looked confused. “What?”

A secret smile touched the corners of the mother’s mouth. “What?”

“Oh my god, it’s like watching a parakeet attack its reflection.” Cisco groaned. “I need more coffee to deal with this.”

Barry stuck out her bottom lip comically. “I would run out to get you coffee, but it’s still at ungodly o’clock, so I don’t think anything’s open.”

The scientist groaned piteously. “It’s not like you can’t cross a few time zones in under five seconds.”

“Consider this revenge.”

Bartholomew snorted, breaking the banter. “On second thought, you might be the evil twin too.”  
…

Instead of a warm body by his side, Len woke up to a text on his phone, smitten with all too many exclamation points and smiley faces, asking him to come to Star Labs with Misha as soon as he woke up.

Marginally annoyed at the vague timing, the thief languidly stretched, and took spiteful pleasure in taking his time feeding and dressing his daughter before the outing. The sleek car, which he found himself driving more than his beloved bike, already had a the car seat secured in the back. However, the thief took his time adjusting every strap, before buckling his daughter in.

Misha grumbled.

“Blame your mother for the early call.” Len said, kissing her forehead.

He arrived at Star Labs soon after, morning traffic not having started in Central. Parking in his usual space, the thief bundled the little girl into his arms before walking inside.

He heard voices talking in the cortex, one the familiar lilt of his favorite speedster, the other a deeper tone he recognized, but couldn’t place.

“Parallel universes with a Supergirl?” Barry’s words danced with excitement. “That is so cool!”

The deeper but no less ecstatic tenor replied in kind, tripping over the words. “But you have aliens here! My earth barely has been to Mars, and you went to a whole other galaxy with your space cop friend!”

“Well, Hal isn’t exactly the best diplomat to represent the earth, so we tend to-“

Len rounded the corner and felt as if he swallowed an ice cube.

Leaning against the desk of computers was his own speedster, hair still sleep muddled and wearing her favorite oversized hockey sweatshirt (which wasn’t oversized on its original owner). Beside her, clad in a familiar red costume was the Flash. But not his Flash. Not anymore.

Michael took that moment to grumble, breaking the duo’s conversation short.

Barry’s grin turned playful as she took in the expression on her partner’s face. 

“Hey Len, look!” Barry smushed her body against her male counterpart’s in a bruising side hug. “Double your money, double your fun; get yourself two speedsters instead of just one!”

The thief very carefully did not let his mind rest upon the implications of her teasing remark, lest his biology betray him.

Bartholomew’s face canted between the parents and their little girl like a confused sunflower. “Wait, so you’re- what, married?”

Len’s eyes narrowed, but Barry’s sigh cut him off. “You don’t have to be married to have a kid together. You do know how sex works, right?”

The breacher’s face flushed scarlet. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“But we are currently together in a conventional sense, yes.” Barry cut him off, one proud fist planted on her canted hip, accentuating the curve.

In Len’s arms, Michael fussed. The thief ran a hand over her downey head, hum rumbling through his chest to calm her. 

The soft look which had been hidden at the back of Bartholomew’s eye rose to the surface. He seemed at a loss for words as he examined each minute corner of the thief’s face for something.

Len wondered vaguely if the role of Captain Cold he once played on Bartholomew’s earth had remained vacant since his unfortunate trip, or whether his doppleganger had seamlessly filled in his life as he had the others.

Bartholomew caught himself staring and flushed. “Sorry, it’s just weird seeing you with a kid. Back on my earth, Leonard Snart, well.” His gaze turned distant, and the red spread to his neck. “I just can’t picture it.”

“Maybe you don’t know him as well as you thought you did.” The thief said casually.

The breacher barked out a laugh. “Maybe. Though, I gotta say, I wouldn’t mind if he was more like you.”

“Don’t get used to it kid, I’m still a criminal. Babysitting just keeps me out of trouble.” 

Michael chose that moment to begin chewing on his lapels.  
…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …  
> A/N: 
> 
> Well, this got kinda meta (haha, pun). And self-referential.
> 
> fuck exams and dog bites


	21. meanwhile back in cannon

…

After the whole debacle with Mardon and Trickster, Bartholomew thought he had seen the last of Cold for a while. The crook had been broken out of prison, warned the Flash, and vanished off the grid.

So when the villain casually waltzed down the street near the precinct, the speedster had a momentary flash of panic. Was it another warning? A heist of his own?

The forensic scientist immediately took his lunch break, grabbed his jacket, and tailed the thief down the block. Only instead of being led to a hideout, Barry found himself following Snart into a dive diner a few blocks from the precinct.

The Motorcar’s interior was just as drab as the exterior would suggest. Barry hesitated a step, before entering. Snart was already seated in the back booth, charming the waitress with his half cocked smile.

He took a seat on the side of the bar opposite his quarry. The server behind the counter eyed the work ID still pinned to his lapels, before pouring him coffee in a chipped tan mug. He placed an order for a burger and fries as well, because stake out or not, the Flash’s metabolism knew no bounds.

Barry glanced across the diner, disguising his movement with a sip of his drink. He wrinkled his nose. Perhaps he should rescind his order of a burger. His gaze fluttered up again, and he choked. Ice blue eyes regarded him with amusement.

“If you’re going to spend your lunch staring at me, you might as well come over here.” Snart’s voice easily carried through the dusty air.

Setting his jaw, Barry grabbed his mug of substandard coffee and slid opposite the thief in the booth.

Snart raised an eyebrow, leaning back into the dark red plastic upholstery. “It’s brave of you to try the coffee.”

The hero grimaced and glanced down at his already lukewarm cup. “If you knew how good it was, why come here?”

“My grandfather used to take me here as a kid,” Snart said, indicating the establishment with a wave of his wrist. “Nice to know the food tastes the same no matter when or where I find myself.”

“Greasy and like an all nighter at the office?”

“I’m sure your tastes are as impeccable as you look.” 

Barry blinked. Was Cold…flirting with him?

“Nock it off Snart!”

The thief’s fingers uncurled from around his drink to settle flat by the dull set of silverware. “I’m just trying to be friendly kid.”

“Yeah, well I’m not buying it! Why are you here? You better not be breaking our deal.”

A single brow quirked upwards. “Care to remind me of the particulars. I don’t believe I would ever make a deal concerning my eating habits.”

Barry huffed. “I dunno, does my bringing you in to eat prison food for the next life time if I catch you doing crime in my city again count?”

Lids lowered briefly over blue eyes as the thief leaned back to contemplate the figure before him, ticking from the laminated name tag on his shirt to the determined set of his jaw and back again. His fingers tapped twice against the table, before he leaned in.

“Flash.” Cold rolled the word over his tongue as if he had never tasted it in this context before. 

Barry crossed his arms over his chest. “Senility finally catching up with you, Snart?”

An amused twist overtook the thief’s lips. “I just forgot how pretty you were under the mask.”

The speedster tried to convince himself that the red on his cheeks was an angry flush.

“But don’t worry yourself.” The corners of Snart’s mouth twisted upwards. “I’m not here to cause trouble just yet.”

Conversation lulled as the waitress brought both of their orders in. Barry couldn’t help the grumble of his stomach at the sight of the greasy burger and fries, despite how his imagination pictured it tasting from his experience with the coffee.

“The food’s not as bad as the coffee,” the thief said, already piling ketchup onto his plate to dip his own fries.

Deciding that he could probably survive food poisoning with his metabolism, Barry risked a bite. Then another. and before he knew it, the burger was gone into the black hole that was his digestive track.

“Wow,” the speedster sighed, licking grease off his fingers. “That was good!”

Snart chuckled. “Glad you approve.”  
…

After the totally not a date (Cisco stop it, it wasn’t a date, shut up!) Barry didn’t see the thief for some time. Normally he would be suspicious as to his absence, but Oliver had called a while back informing him that Snart and several others were apparently traveling through time to save the future.

“Wait, what?”

“I just need to know if I should be worried about leaving Palmer alone with those guys.”

“Uh.” Barry struggled to re-orient his thoughts. “Ray? Uh, he should be fine. Probably. Snart wouldn’t hurt him without a reason.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” the millionaire sighed.

Captain Cold dropped further from Barry’s thoughts as the convoluted plot of his life reared its ugly head, pulling the speedster down along a path of fear and intrigue. But that was a story for another time. 

When a tennis ball came flying through the dimensional rip in the basement (seriously Cisco, last time you’re ever left alone in the lab again), Cisco had of course called in the red clad heroic portion of Team Flash (tm). Barry had just been jogging home from work when he got the call, so it didn’t take much effort to redirect his step to Star Labs.

“Dude, someone’s trying to contact us from the other side!” the scientist squealed.

“It sounds creepy when you say it like that. We ghost hunters now? And why are you messing with the portal? I thought we agreed no more parallel dimensions.”

“If it is.” He held up the tennis ball. “I’ll have to practice my back swing.” Cisco sniggered. “And I was only playing around with the frequencies. I’m trying to find the universe where everything is made out of chocolate.”

Barry rolled his eyes. “Guess I’ll go check this one out then.” In an instant, he changed into his red outfit. 

“Dude, you sure you want to do this? We haven’t exactly had the best track with parallel worlds. I could totally send a drone in instead.” He indicated a silver machine with the words ‘Curiosity’ written on the side with permanent marker.

“They threw tennis balls at us; how bad could it be?” The speedster smirked, and darted away.  
…

Earth…whatever number they were up to now, was startlingly similar to his own home. Forbearance filled him in on the little details of an alien invasion prompting the creation of the Justice League (which Barry totally didn’t think was the coolest thing ever). 

However, the most shocking turn of events was when he was introduced to the parallel speedster’s family, starting, of course, with her daughter…and Captain Cold. Who was still the leader of the Rogues. And how did that work out?

“It’s complicated.” Forbearance shrugged when he asked. “But at least I got Ollie to stop threatening, and Joe’s only tried to shoot Len twice this week.”

Though, really, this version of Snart wasn’t that different from his own. The look he cast on his daughter and partner brought to mind the same fragile gaze Barry had witnessed when the thief was trying to protect his sister from their father. 

And if this Snart could embrace the good in him…

He shook the thought away.  
…

Much later, after bidding his parallel sister-self adieu, mind buzzing with ideas of how to convince Oliver to fund a watchtower in space, Barry ran home.

Cisco was rather disappointed that the parallel world was not, in fact, made of chocolate. However, he totally geeked out when Barry mentioned the space cops who could shoot glowing green light projections from their rings.

Still feeling jittery after his small adventure, the Flash forewent running home to sleep, in favor of jogging around the city. He wasn’t looking for anyone in particular. Really. He swears. However, when he spotted a familiar swagger in the back of a particular dive bar, it only took him half a moment to change into civilian garb to check it out.

Snart raised a single imperious brow as the brunette walked towards him, looking out of place, as usual, in his jeans and flannel. The speedster sat down at his table uninvited, eyes fixed on the thief, as he munched on his fries. 

At long last, the criminal crumbled his paper napkin and blatantly stared back. “What, have I got something on my face?”

“No, it’s just-“ Barry shook his head. “I went to a parallel universe today.”

Snart’s attention riveted to the conversation, his fingers freezing half way through a tap on his hip. “And you’re telling me this why?”

The speedster shrugged, half a smile tickling his lips. “You’re not the only one who’s life has turned into a syfy drama.”

A smirk quirked the corners of his mouth. “Not all it’s cracked up to be. The ship’s not even bigger on the inside.”

“What?”

He waived it off. “So can I ask where exactly one goes to spend an evening in a parallel world?”

Barry shrugged, and stole some of the garlic fries sitting neglected on his companion’s plate. “We have one downstairs in Star Labs.”

“You keep a portal to a parallel universe in your basement.”

“Well, when you say it like that…” The speedster chuckled uncomfortably.

Cold laughed, head shaking. “Only you, Scarlet.”  
…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …  
> A/N:  
> A lot of you have been asking what’s happening in cannon with that Len. Here it is! 
> 
> I’ve not been able to keep up with the latest Flash and Legends episodes, so this is kinda set in a place where all the major plot points from the last….many episodes didn’t happen.


	22. Lisa

…

Lisa first met Sam while hiding concussed in the back of a van, praying that the mob men outside didn’t open the beat up old door and expose her hiding place.

In the paint stripped interior, she saw a flicker of green and orange, before the solid surface she had been leaning against rippled like water, and she tumbled backwards into what she would later learn to be the mirror world.

She must have passed out at that point, because the next thing she remembers is waking up half a city away in an alleyway next to a warped tin mirror someone had thrown away.

The event would have been categorized entirely under ‘way too much scotch fever dream’, if it wasn’t for the orange reflection that haunted her shadow. 

Were she a lesser woman, Lisa might have become paranoid. However, she wasn’t, so the next time she thought she saw someone watching her out of a reflective shop window, she marched herself to a quiet corner of the hideout, pulled out her pocket compact, and demanded that whoever was there showed themselves before she started wracking up years of bad luck by the sevens.

And that was how she met Sam.

Lisa’s life, being what it was, didn’t really register a romantic relationship across the looking glass as that big of a deal. Sure, she could portray a tactile personality when it suited her needs, but Sam’s quiet support and conversational skills meant more to her than what creature comforts more available males could supply.

Where Lisa did let her concern show was mostly around her brother, who couldn’t seem to get it through his snow drift skull that he was totally over the moon for Central’s resident speedster.

Her concern only mounted when the icy thief became withdrawn and secretive as the months drew on. Lisa was just about to stage an intervention, when aliens attacked and her brother appeared with a baby under his parka.

The Golden Glider couldn’t have been more relieved. This explained everything; the secrecy, the absentmindedness, the way her brother seemed to forget tiny details about things, only to blanch and recover too smoothly to not have been faked. A baby, his baby, Flash’s baby, her niece, provided the perfect reason why her brother seemed so uncomfortable in his skin, as if he were a stranger who accidentally walked into the wrong life. 

Lisa knew Lenny had issues, everyone did; his issues could fill up several runs of the National Geographic. 

Anyway, baby. A perfect little girl with her brother’s eyes, Flash’s smile, and her auntie’s power to wrap the world around her tiny finger. Lisa couldn’t be prouder.

Which was why, when things with his baby mama were seemingly finally (finally! if it had gone on any longer, Lisa would have lost so much money to Mick) go her brother’s way, the idiot had to get cold feet.

Golden eyes glared into blue, making up for their barer’s short stature with sheer venom. “No.”

Lenny raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“No.” Lisa hissed again. 

“But it’s my heist. I’ve planned it.”

“I’ve got it covered.” Her hands planted firmly on her hips. “And it’s your nine month anniversary since finally going on a real date with the Flash.”

“No one actually celebrates that.”

“With all the lost ground you need to make up for, I really think you should start.”

Her brother sighed, in the put upon way of all elder siblings. “Lees-“

“Lenny, see your daughter, kiss your maybe-girlfriend, and come near the hideout within the next forty-eight hours, and I’ll shoot you.”

The thief sighed again, this time with the hint of a growl. “Lisa-“

Her gold gun began to charge, and the man had the good sense to flee.

She gave him thirty minutes head start, before waltzing into the kitchen area. Mick and Boomer were playing a card game that involved more explosives than one would expect. Trickster’s smile grew wider with each raised bet, and Piper chatted long-sufferingly in the corner with Sam, who leaned against the strange gold mirror the dangerous duo had brought back from one of their adventures.

“Lenny’s taking a vacation to spend time with his family,” Lisa drawled. “That means I’m in charge.” A single golden brow raised imperiously. “Any objections?”

The men in the room didn’t even bother sharing a glance before nodding their acceptance of her rule.

She smiled like sweet, sweet poison.  
…

Being the major surviving criminal organization in Central City brought with it a laundry list of interesting quirks and happenstances. Other less than ordinary and goodly inclined individuals somehow included the Rogues on a strange email list, which seemed to consist of bragging over the best crime so and such in Gotham or Metropolis had pulled this week. There was even a voting poll, complete with bribes and threats, which granted the winners a sort of awful prestige. 

Lisa made a point to keep an eye on anyone near her, ahem, her family’s city. Only once had she needed to post her own strongly worded warning, and those pesky ninja assassins had taken the hint to go bother someone else.

Of course, the Rogue’s were brought to the attention of others as well.

A rat faced man with nervous fingers stood at the bar of the Rogue’s favorite dive bar, beats of sweat visible on his brow despite the establishment’s perpetually cool atmosphere (in deference to their largest patron’s preference).

“You are Heatwave?” he barked, with more courage than he had a right to fake.

Seated at the bar, Mick blew the flame out on one of his shots, and downed the glass in one swallow. He sighed contentedly. “Who’s asking?”

The stranger puffed himself up with bravo. “I have a job for your organization.”

Motioning for another drink, the pyro shrugged. “Talk to Glider. She’s in charge.”

The man frowned. “But I thought Cold…”

“He’s busy. She’s in charge.”

The ratty man cast about the bar to where the subordinate professed leader of the Rogues resided. He saw her near the pool table, grinning flirtatiously at a man in an orange and green hoodie as he lined up his cue.

Striding over, he puffed up his shoulders, and yapped. “Glider, I have a job the Rogues.”

Golden eyes flicked to the pungent body, unimpressed. “Oh?”

“Yes, and if you could relay my offer to your brother-“

“I don’t think so,” she said, and turned back to the table.

The man bristled, bead of sweat streaking down the side of his face. “Now listen here, this is a very important matter-“ 

Lisa placed one hand delicately against her cheek, head durning to look down at the man, one leg thrown carelessly over the other as she leaned back against the table, heels glinting sharp. The other men in the bar stopped whatever they were doing to watch her, with varying levels of amusement on their faces. “So, you want to hire my Rogues for, what, a grudge match? We’re not mercenaries, you know.”

“But you are thieves!” the man stuttered. “And I need something stolen!”

She sighed thoughtfully. “True.” Languorously, she uncrossed her legs, and slid her back up straight against the smooth leather chair. “So, what’s your offer, and I’ll consider it.”

“I need one of the formulas from Star Labs-“

“No.”

The man paused, blinking, taken a back. “What?”

“No. Go away now.”

He puffed up like a canary unknowingly in front of a mountain lion. “I doubt the leader of the Rogues would allow you to turn down my offer so readily! I demand to speak to him!”

Lisa pinched the space between her eyes, and took a long suffering sigh. In an instant, her wrist flicked out, and a gold statue occupied the middle of the bar where the man once perspired.

A few cheers, notably from James’s end of the bar, clattered through the room. At the pool table, Sam looked at her the way some lesser men might see a goddess.

Her smile was toxic. “So, now that the overall level of competency in the room has increased, how about we all just get along with our evenings?”  
…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …  
> A/N:
> 
> Ug, writing that ending scene was hard.


	23. EN!

…

Len had an iced coffee for breakfast, and fervently ignored Lisa’s calls about kidnapping Michael for a day at the park. Several sightings of a cold based villain in a blue parka down at the docks, that were definitely not caused by him, required his attentions.

Slinging the cold gun over his shoulder, the thief left his bike to stalk through the abandoned concrete jungle.

A deliberate knocking of knuckles against a wall had him spinning to face…himself.

“Well,” Len said. “This is awkward.”

His double canted his head in an eerily familiar way. “Can’t say you didn’t expect it though. Not after our last meeting.”

“Point.”

“Sorry for pushing you through a wormhole, by the way,” Cold said. “I thought you were impersonating me. And when I went back, the portal was closed.”

“Seems that great minds think alike.” Len shifted his grip so the gun didn’t point directly at his counterpart. “So, been up to anything interesting in my old stomping grounds?”

Cold shrugged. “Nothing much. Saved the future, got weird in the seventies. Nothing too exciting.”

“So you’re a hero now?”

Cold raised an eyebrow. “About as much as you are, I would imagine. Your kid’s cute, by the way.”

Len shrugged, fingers tapping a stitch against the trigger. “What can I say, circumstances got away from me.”

“I can relate.” Cold grinned. “I never thought I would be traveling with a Time Lord, though.” 

Len’s brow furrowed. “What?”

Cold’s grin split his face like a kid in a candy shop. “Hm, have Lisa show you where I keep my DVDs. Doctor Who is right next to the Star Wars original editions. Time travel genre is apparently not a thing in your home dimension.”

“I rather think this is my home dimension now.”

The anti-hero bobbed his head from side to side, before nodding. “I can appreciate that.”

Len discreetly unclenched his hand and holstered his gun. “Good. I wouldn’t want to start arguing with myself.”

“That way does lie madness.” His double agreed, removing his own hand from the pocket of his coat.

“I must ask, though, how did you manage to make your way back here?”

Cold shrugged nonchalantly. “Lisa’s boy toy is good for more than just making weapons, apparently. I asked my Barry for a favor, and he was happy to oblige, with the proper incentive.” His smirk should have been illegal, and Len couldn’t help imagining exactly the kinds of ‘incentives’ he knew could put that kind of look on his own face.

“And you just decided to pop back here to sight see?”

“Had to make sure you weren’t wrecking up the joint.”

“Understandable.”

The air shimmered behind Cold, letting out a flash of color. He glanced over his shoulder. “Well, that’s my ride. Pleasure chatting with you.”

“So.” Len’s fingers tapped his thigh. “We’re just going to continue on as we have, then.”

“Seems like.” Cold agreed. He turned back towards the shimmer in the air. “Guess I’ll be seeing you.”

Len quirked an eyebrow. “Hopefully not.”

The wide answering smirk vanished along with it’s owner into that other world, which now stood more alien to Len than this strange place with its constant threat of alien invasion.

The phone in his pocket buzzed. 

“Talk.” His features softened at the reprimand at the other end of the line. “Chill. Factoring in your tendency for promptness, I still have some time before I’m the one who’s late.”

More words, with a decidedly flustered tone of defense, which made the thief smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve not left you out in the cold. I’ll see you soon.” He hung up.  
…

“We should do this family dinner thing more often.” Barry said, as she sped her way through breaking down the table and washing the dishes.

Nearby, crouching beside a colorful red high chair, Len fed his daughter her own evening snack. “Tell Joe to put his shotgun away, and we can negotiate.”

Barry chuckled more lightheartedly than Len thought his comment deserved. Michael made a high pitched warble, calling her father’s attention back to her meal.

The thief’s mouth quirked, and he scraped the tiny spoon against the bottom of the jar of baby food.

“I think someone’s still hungry.” He said, drawing his partner’s attention to the near empty container.

“I’ll get another.” She said, and crossed to the kitchen pantry. “Shoot.” Barry worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she gazed into the cupboard.

“Problem?” Len said, guiding Michael through a final bite of apple sauce. The baby bubbled, dribbling a mouthful down her chin. Her father grinned.

Barry turned from the cupboard. “I need you to pick up some more baby food. Michael’s metabolism has been running higher than Caitlyn expected, and we need more for tomorrow.”

“The store closes in seventeen minutes.” The thief said, already standing to stride to the door. He pulled his parka from the coatrack as he went. “I can make it there in five.”

“I quiver at the number of broken traffic laws.” Barry said, lifting Michael from her high chair. The baby wriggled in her mother’s arms, tiny hands clawing over the woman’s shoulder to grasp in the general direction of her father’s form.

“You could always flash over yourself, but last time you liquified the carrots.”

The speedster rolled her eyes. “Run with the groceries one time, and you’ll never let me live it down.”

His answering smirk prompted another eye roll.

The baby’s face twisted, and she grumbled a bit louder, only prompting her mother to bounce her a few times in supplication.

“She’s been making faces at the mango jars, so I’ve stopped buying that flavor. Anything else is fair game.”

“I’ll buy in bulk.” He opened the front door, motor cycle keys jangling in his fist.

“EN!”

The thief’s feet stopped at the doorway.

Michael wriggled and stretched out her arms beseechingly. “En! En!” She screamed again.

Cold stood, frozen. Barry, still trying to juggle her restless daughter, spluttered out a guffaw. 

“Hey, daddy, sounds like your little girl doesn’t want you to leave.”

The thief turned around, a wide grin melting across his face as his eyes grew damp. He held out his arms, and the speedster barely managed to slow their daughter’s excited leap to his chest. “Sorry, baby girl, you not want me to go?”

“En!” Michael squawked imperiously, tiny fingers fisted on the lapels of his coat.

“You know I’ll never forgive you for being her first words.” Barry confided, leaning close to his side.

“You should have thought of that before dating a thief. I steal all the best things.”

The speedster groaned out a sigh, and bumped him companionably with her shoulder.  
...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …  
> A/N:  
> While cannon!Flash verse has Star Wars, it clearly does not have Dr.Who, otherwise everyone would be comparing Rip to Rory, I mean, the Doctor. ;3 
> 
> Thus, the scify nerd Len got the universe with alien invasions, and the whovian Len got the time travel adventure. Win-win for everyone!
> 
> So…yeah, that’s it for this I think. Thanks for reading folks, it’s been a blast.
> 
> Oh, also, I got a short sequel for this, just fyi.
> 
> Thanks to kitty (you know who you are) for such nice reviews that reminded me to finish the last chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I might have just written this for the banter...
> 
> Reviews feed the muse!


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